An Unexpected Force
by TolkienScribe
Summary: The Arda system is a new system consisting of the planets Mirkwood, Rohan, Gondor and many others. Newly joined with the Republic, and many of its natives appearing in the Jedi Order, the system struggles to survive in the face of a new threat. LOTR story set in Star Wars universe. Please read and review. :)
1. Prologue

AN **UNEXPECTED FORCE**

 **Disclaimer:** Do not own a single dot in either world.

 **Rating:** Rated T for war.

 **Summary:** The Arda system is a new system consisting of the planets Mirkwood, Rohan, Gondor and many others. Newly joined with the Republic, and many of its natives appearing in the Jedi Order, the system struggles to survive in the face of a new threat. LOTR story based in Star Wars. AU.

Flames not appreciated **.** Constructive criticism is welcome.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Prologue:**

32 BBY,

The Arda system lay in the Outer Rim, far from Republican domain. It was so isolated, in fact, that it cost them a fortune in fuel to reach. It was a wonder the system pledged allegiance with the Republic, when it was surrounded with systems that were hostile and lawless. But the Arda system was capable of protecting itself. Each planet was governed by a sovereign. Gondor was an off-white planet with light golden streaks, and closest to the sun. Rohan was its nearest sister, coloured in green and gold. Then came Imladris, or Rivendell, coloured green, grey and brown. Lórien was an array of grey and specks of green. Mirkwood was the outermost planet, coloured dark green and brown, almost shading towards black. Each planet had a moon of its own, except for two.

In the most centre of all the planets revolving the sun, was a gold and silver small planet with the perfect roundness. It seemed to glow with a light from within its own core. The natives called it the Grey Havens. None but the Elves dared venture there, when they were weary and tired of the world. The ships would take them to the planet, leave them there and return. Those who sought the Elves who left this way, never found them. They simply vanished. None knew where they went, and the planet held no hostile life. In fact, there was no life at all on Grey Havens.

And then there was Mordor, a black and red planet with vast black plains and black rocks, and live volcanoes dotting the surface of the planet. Master Mace Windu stared out of the window at the system which was their destination.

"Troubled, you are," Yoda said. The Grand Master sat cross-legged, his staff resting across his lap.

"I am." Mace answered.

"Trust Thranduil, you do not." There was amusement in the older Jedi's voice.

"I don't." Mace turned away from the window. "I still think it is a bad idea giving him an entire system to look after."

"Needed, was a Jedi base. Strong in the Force, Arda system is. Many younglings, we will find."

"Nevertheless, you have noticed they do not use the force like us. They do not follow rules."

"New to Order, they are. Time, you must give them."

Arguing with Master Yoda was hopeless when it came to the Arda system. Mace Windu tried numerous times and used various tactics, but Yoda was firm. But then, Mace could not blame them. The Force was strong in the younglings here, whether they were among Men, Elves, Dwarves or even the little creatures called Hobbits. It was fortunate the entire system was willing to ally them to the Republic, in spite of the hostility they were facing. Many of the systems under the Republic were not too keen on welcoming these 'outsiders' as they called them. There were very few who were willing to form a friendship. The Jedi Order did not concern themselves with such frivolities. Untrained younglings strong in the Force were dangerous for the Order and to the younglings themselves. They had to be trained, even if Mace was not in favour of it.

"Trust him, you must. Different, he may seem to you, but good, is his heart."

Their ship entered the atmosphere of the planet Mirkwood. Soon the new Jedi Temple came into view. It was a square building, with towers rising at the corners. Numerous landing pads protruded from the building itself. It was teeming with Elves and Dwarves. No Dwarf had yet become a Jedi, though there were some who were in training. Mace looked and found a lone figure waiting at a landing pad and his mouth turned down. Yoda only hummed in amusement.

When the bridge lowered, Mace and Yoda both disembarked. Mace kept his eyes lowered at the change of metal of the bridge to solid stone of land. Then finally he raised his eyes.

Thranduil was tall, taller than Mace himself. There was power in his lean figure and broad shoulders. The Elf was well-muscled and towered even over Mace himself. His jawline was strong, expressing his stubbornness, and his grey eyes were sharp. His long golden hair was bound with a single band and fell over his back. He wore dark green robes instead of the standard Jedi robes of varying shades of brown. Mace half-turned his head towards Yoda, expecting him to say something, but the Grand Master only looked over Thranduil without a word.

"Content, you are, for being home." Yoda said after greeting the Elf. His cane tapped over the cold stones. They joined Thranduil who led them towards the temple. "Happy, you seem."

"It is home." Thranduil said with a small smile. There was lilting accent to his voice. "And these are my people."

"The Jedi does not pledge themselves to one race, Thranduil." Mace could not help adding. "I am sure I do not need to remind you."

"I do not need to be reminded, Mace, though I seem to think your statement was entirely useless to express from the beginning." There was no challenge in his words, but Mace tried hard not to bristle.

"Dwarves, there are. Help, they have given?"

"Indeed, Master Yoda. They have attributed greatly in the making of this temple, as you will see."

As soon as the doors opened wide, Mace had to confess the architecture was not only sound but beautiful. Metal was beaten into shapes of plants crawling up the walls and budding flowers. Metal leaves pulled away from the vines as if they had a life of their own. The floor was covered with a strip of carpet leading through the corridors."

"Beautiful, this is." Yoda commented. Neither Yoda nor Mace visited the temple once it completed construction.

"My father and my people helped as well. It helps in meditation."

They were led into a meeting room which was large enough to hold the entire Jedi council if such a need rose. A droid brought in refreshments.

"How are things in the Senate?" Thranduil asked to break the long silence.

"As they have always been," Mace said. Thranduil laughed dryly.

"And by that you mean they are arguing over many things and yet reaching to no conclusion."

On that, Mace fully agreed. The Jedi Order was meant to protect the Republic and all it stood for, but a room full of politicians bickering away and reaching no solution was only wearying.

"What of the condition of Arda system in the Senate?"

"Indecisive, they are." Yoda said, his long nails scraping the swollen head of his wooden staff. "Do not know what to make of this system."

"When we said we would stand by the Republic, we meant it. Then why doesn't the Republic see reason?"

Too serious, Mace thought as he watched Thranduil. He is too serious. There were rumours the Elf was not as serious as he seemed once he was in the absence of fellow Jedi. But Mace, having hardly seen the Elf with a genuine smile, found it difficult to believe.

"Arda system lies in the Outer Rim, where we have many enemies willing to do whatever in their power to bring the Republic to its feet. It is difficult to trust anyone here."

"And while the Republic is still looking for a clean slate, we have our own troubles." Thranduil leaned forward, one finger tapping the table between them. "Our girls are disappearing. The pirates attack in hoards and steal what they could. Hostilities are increasing. We were meant to have protection as a part of our deal. And yet no Republic ships have arrived to give aid."

"You are no politician, Thranduil, you are a Jedi." Mace said sharply. "Try to remember that."

"No, I am not a politician. But I am son of a King. My father rules this planet, if you would try to remember. I am as part of this system as this system is a part of me."

"You gave up your titles and your possession when you entered the Jedi Order, Thranduil."

Thranduil was not a child when he entered the Jedi Order. In fact, according to the Elves, he was past his majority. But Yoda allowed him to enter their ranks anyway. Thranduil learned quickly and Mace personally knew the Elf was deadly when it came to combat.

"Really?" Thranduil asked loftily. "I do not seem to recall."

Thranduil leaned back in his chair and Mace caught sight of the light golden thread tracing a leaf pattern along the edges of his Jedi robes. Such extravagance was not befitting a Jedi. Thranduil looked directly at him and raised a brow with a smirk. Mace tightened his lips. Proud, defiant; he will be his own undoing. It was a wonder Thranduil did not succumb to the dark side when he was but an apprentice.

Yoda only watched their interaction with a knowing smile.

"Like each other, you do not." Yoda said. "But brothers, you still are. Help each other, you will in danger. Certain, I am."

"Help him?" Mace jerked his chin towards Thranduil. "Unlikely."

"The sentiment is mutual." Thranduil said but Yoda shook his head and remained silent.

"How long do you intend to stay?"

"Not long. Leave immediately, we must. Many things to do, there are."

Thranduil inclined his head.

"I understand."

They stayed a while longer, checking the temple for any flaws but found none. At last they were back to the ship. Now that Mace knew they were leaving, he was unwilling to leave as if something withheld him.

"The reports say you leave on a mission." Thranduil said.

"Oh, you read reports now?" Mace asked in pretended surprise. "You impress me."

For the first time, he saw a smile on Thranduil's face that was not tinted with mockery or bitterness. It was small, merely tugging at the corners of his lips but it was genuine. Mace could not help but smile in return.

"Try to look after yourself."

"I will, though," Mace looked at Thranduil. "I think you need that advice more than I."

Thranduil's laughter followed him as he ascended the bridge.

"May the Force be with you," Mace said.

"And with you as well," Thranduil called, stepping back to safety as the bridge began to rise.

Mace watched the Elf as the bridge lifted up until it closed fully. But Thranduil kept his gaze on the ship until it disappeared in the sky.

"I am not from here." Thranduil said softly once they left. "I don't know where I am from. But I am not from here."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

-The new upcoming movie of Star Wars kind of got me hyped and made me want to write this plotline that was stuck in my head for years.

\- **In Star Wars:** The events that occur from here will occur between the Episode I: Phantom Menace and Episode II: Attack of the Clones.

-Placing the story here in spite of a crossover because it is dominantly LOTR.

-Thanks to Silver for helping me with the title.

-Do leave a review. :)


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

Thanks to Just A Reviewer, Mirkwood Warrior, Certh, DORK DOG, LadyLindariel, WoodElfJedi, Raider-K, Elleth of Mossflower, Teapot of Transformation, Jesus' girl 4ever, BrightPath2, horseyyay, Smileyxs Ice-Cream Sprinkles, Silver Ink Pen, ShatteredIce18 for their reviews.

Special thanks to all the members of the forum, for their neverending support and help.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

The Force coated his senses, sharpening it. The air around him was cold, but not so much that he was uncomfortable. The lights were off, except the sharp red emergency lights that came on when the systems were down. He smiled grimly. Good. It will make the hunt interesting. And if he was able to kill someone as an act of defence, all the better.

He sensed a presence behind him before he heard the light clank of a blaster leaving its holder. Thranduil turned, pulling out his lightsaber. Its green light mingled with red light, and he caught sight of the pirate.

"Welcome to Arda system," Thranduil said dryly. Then he scowled. "You have something I want."

The pirate sneered and shot his blaster. Thranduil deflected each shot easily, the walls now decorated with scorched black holes. Thranduil raised one hand and used the Force to push the pirate back. He crashed into the wall behind him so hard he was dazed. Thranduil went to the door, kicking the pirate's head in his path to make sure he was out completely. He studied the humanoid for a minute. He was from planet Weequay, judging from his leathery and wrinkled skin. For his entire wish to make the pirate suffer for his crime, Thranduil detested going against the rules of the Jedi Order. He hit the button with the palm of his free hand.

When the door opened with a hiss and he found two more pirates waiting for him. One was obviously from Umbar, a piece of land situated in the planet Gondor and was well known for piracy. He was dark-skinned, tattooed and a scar on his upper lip that pulled it back in a permanent snarl. The other also belonged to Weequay.

Thranduil deflected the shots, two of which returned and hit the man in the leg and chest. He crumpled to the floor with a groan. Thranduil sprinted to the other, whirling his lightsaber and cutting his blaster in two before Force-pushing him against a wall. The pirate hit the back of his head and groaned. Thranduil's booted feet barely made a whisper on the ground as he approached and knelt in front of him.

"Where are they?" Thranduil asked. His voice was quiet and deadly. The pirate stared at him through half-lidded eyes. "You have ten seconds to tell me where they are."

"Or what, Jedi? You can't kill me. It goes against your soft-hearted rules."

"The Jedi Order isn't here to judge me." Thranduil said coolly. "I would imagine it would be difficult to go pirating if I happen to cut off one of your hands." The pirate showed no emotion.

"Or I could give you up to your pirate king." Thranduil said with a small humourless smile. "You are not wearing the colours of your planet. That must mean you are exiled. Taking away bounty that should actually go to pirate king is a crime in your planet, isn't it?"

Fear flickered in the pirate's eyes.

"We took fifteen. Three are dead,"

Thranduil's face darkened as he heard this.

"I-I swear, it wasn't me! It was him!" The pirate gestured wildly at the unconscious man. There was a slowly growing pool of blood around him. "Turn left from here. You will find them. One-one of them is in his room." He gestured again at the man. "Turn right. First door."

Thranduil looked into his eyes directly, and passed a hand over the pirate's face.

"Sleep," he said, letting the Force seep into his voice. The pirate's eyes widened before closing. He sagged against the wall.

Thranduil rose and went left first to the only door present at the end of the corridor. It was a storage unit, also lit in red lights. His heart clenched in pity at the sight of numerous cages and the young Ellyth trapped within them. The cages were low, and so small that they were curled inside. Thranduil used his lightsaber to free them from their cages. They were trembling from their ordeal but otherwise were mercifully unharmed. He led them quickly down at the hanger where the first pirate was still unconscious. Once he was sure they boarded his own ship, Thranduil went in search of the last prisoner in the personal quarters.

As soon as he opened the door, he was met with a metallic odour of blood. Thranduil wrinkled his nose and entered. Cold fury washed over him when he found the Elleth curled on the bed. She was unclothed, without even a blanket to ward off the cold. The bloody lashes stood out in the red light. Her shoulders shook and Thranduil's Force heightened senses told him she was sobbing quietly. He shrugged off his outer robe and placed it over her. The result was instantaneous. The Elleth crawled to a corner, sobbing and pleading in broken words.

"I am a friend," Thranduil said in Sindarin. She went still and looked up. The sight of a friendly face, and also one not different from her own calmed her somewhat. "I am a Jedi. You are safe now. Let me help."

It took a little more of his consoling words to allow him to carry her off the ship. Once he placed her in the med bay and had the medical droid treat her, he returned and studied the three pirates.

It was odd how only three pirates managed to capture fifteen she-Elves. But he knew they had a lot of help through stun guns and smoke grenades. And such a large ship often gave the illusion there were more than just three. What interested him more was the lack of insignia on the ship or on their clothes. These pirates may seem to be vagabonds- or rogues that had no affiliation with a pirate organization but Thranduil knew better. The systemic attacks across the entire Arda system was too calculated and organized to be passed off as random. He needed to interrogate them. He bound them all and one by one boarded them on to his ship. He slashed the controls by using his lightsaber, further damaging the ship. Let it pass off for salvage, but this ship will never fly again.

Back on board, Thranduil loosened a breath and sighed. The adrenaline rush faded and a cool calm took its place. Some Jedi might find this short excitement too little for gratification, but Thranduil it was enough.

Once he was sure all the girls were taken care of, he went and reluctantly made sure that the pirates were not too severely injured. The man from Umbar was treated for his wounds but the medical droid announced he would make a full recovery.

"Good," Thranduil said grimly. He was bound by the Order not to inflict torture. But he hoped passing that man to Gondor will bring back some form of retribution. He watched the medical droid amble up to the injured Elleth before pressing the intercom button on a nearby panel.

"Pilot," Thranduil said. "Map a route to Rivendell."

"Yes, Master," the pilot's voice came back, sharp and crisp. "Right away."

* * *

Galadriel looked at herself in the mirror. She was dressed in a shimmering white dress. It flared at the hips and ended in a train behind her. Her hair was free and unadorned except for the silver circlet resting on her head. She smiled dryly at the deep neck of her dress. She wasn't the kind to enjoy such daring clothes but at times she indulged her handmaidens.

"Senator Galadriel, Captain Haldir is here to see you."

"Excellent," her voice was musical and calm. She strode out of the small dressing room and found her loyal captain standing in wait.

"We are reaching Coruscant in a matter of few minutes, my lady." Haldir said. He, too, was dressed in his best. His silver hair gleamed, the warrior braids in place. He wore standard grey uniform with the dark red cloak to state his station as a captain. Pity, since the red cloak did not complement his silver hair.

"I hope you are now at ease, captain." Galadriel teased lightly. "There is no threat to protect me from." But Haldir was not convinced.

"We haven't reached Coruscant yet, my lady."

Galadriel sighed and gestured at her handmaidens to stay behind. She walked alongside her captain towards the bridge where they would disembark.

"You worry too much. I assume my husband might have warned the consequences of your failure to protect me but I am sure Coruscant will be safe, given the numbers of politicians that are present."

"None of those politicians have our problems, my lady. I am not one for politics and my concern only lie in the orders that I am given. But I know enough. I will not let harm come to you, my lady, not only because of Lord Celeborn, but for the mere reason that our people should be entitled to the same protection as the Republic offers all else."

"I am sure the Senate will not allow anything to happen to me, Haldir. They would not risk this talk."

"I am not so sure."

"You are mistrustful."

"I am merely cautious."

"Nevertheless, for an alliance to work, both sides must extend hands. And in this case, it should be us first."

Galadriel spoke with such finality that there was no room for Haldir to argue. So the captain only looked at the lady and held his tongue.

Their ship landed on a landing pad. Galadriel's handmaidens assembled behind her. Haldir's form was tense but Galadriel knew no amount of consolations would cease his worry until he escorted her back to Lórien.

They descended off the bridge, and Galadriel raised her eyes to see a small group of three reaching their ship, no doubt to greet her. Suddenly her senses pricked. She looked up and saw a slim carrier making its way towards their ship. Strange, there was no traffic allowed about the landing pads reserved only for dignitaries.

"Haldir..."

The warning in her voice was enough. Haldir barrelled into her, knocking her off her feet. Haldir's heavy body shielded her as the ship exploded with a loud blast. Screams echoed in the air, accompanied with the ringing in her ears. Haldir was saying something but she could not register it. The ringing ceased gradually and Haldir's weight lifted from her. She was pulled up by the elbow. Galadriel looked about her.

The ship was in pieces, and bodies scattered the landing pad. The accompanying fighter planes were blown off the landing pad from the blast. She caught sight of two bodies of her guards hanging off the landing pad. Her handmaidens' bodies scattered over the floor. Blood was beginning to pool. Galadriel took a step towards them with trembling hands but Haldir pulled her back.

"We have to go." Haldir's voice was rough.

"My handmaidens!"

"My lady, it is your protection all of us had sworn to!" Haldir said. "Come!" Haldir clutched her by her arms and dragged her away from the ruins.

* * *

A few hours later, Galadriel sat in Chancellor Palpatine's office. She wore a dark red dress, her hair bound tightly around strings of black pearls. The Chancellor supplied her with new servants to serve her temporarily and guards from his personal security. That did nothing to console her.

Chancellor Palpatine sat behind his desk. It was long, wide, with a polished surface. Its size alone made Palpatine seem unreachable, irreproachable. The man sat behind him like someone who not only was comfortable in power, but also enjoyed it. He was thin man, but sprightly for someone his age. His hair was greying, and there were wrinkles on his brow and corners of his eyes. Master Yoda and Master Windu both sat on either side of the Chancellor. All three held respectable silence in her company, while Galadriel clasped her hands on her lap and fought to control her emotions.

"How could this have happened?" She finally asked. Her voice was devoid of any warmth. She sounded cold even to her ears but she held on to her anger with a mere thread. Sunlight streamed into the room, warming her skin.

"I apologise for the incidence, Senator-"

"Apologies will not bring back the lives of my escort." Galadriel said sharply. "Nor will it sooth my anger. Your representatives assured me I will be given proper security."

"The landing pads are not always secure," The Chancellor tried to reason. Galadriel gave a scoff and looked away into the window behind the Chancellor's desk in an image of an offended dignitary.

"It would seem that the lack of security of your landing pads makes only one thing certain, Chancellor, that the Senate does not take our arrival and coming dialogue seriously."

"My lady, I assure you that is not so."

"The deaths of my staff say otherwise!" Galadriel said. "Of the thirty Elves who accompanied me today, only one is uninjured aside from myself, and three more are barely living in the hospital."

"Upset, the Senator is. And rightfully so." Yoda said. "Grave is this matter." Palpatine nodded slowly.

"I understand that, Master Yoda. I would like to suggest a suitable guard to you." Palpatine said. "Perhaps you might consider the company of a Jedi for protection."

"I will consider no such proposal!"

"My lady, it will be for the best." Mace tried to reason but Galadriel turned her attention to him. Her cold grey eyes were difficult to match. Galadriel did not let her eyes falter. The Jedi met her eyes with a wavering glance of his own but he did not look away. Finally she shifted in her chair and looked at Yoda.

"And what are Master Yoda's thoughts to all this?" Galadriel asked. Yoda opened his eyes but did not look at her.

"Serious, is this attack. Listen to counsel, you must." Galadriel sighed at his words.

"I will consider this proposal." Galadriel said. Then she paused and added, "In fact, I would welcome it, if you deem it best."

"My lady, your safety is a deep concern for us," Palpatine looked directly in her eyes, "for me."

Galadriel likened that man for a snake.

"I thank you." It was difficult for her to say those words with as much warmth as he did.

"We will send you a suitable Jedi," Mace Windu said. The man was only in his thirties, but Galadriel had to admit, he held himself well. "You need not fear; we will choose the very best and the ones we trust ourselves."

Galadriel stared at each one of them before shifting her sash away and standing up in a proud stance.

"I am not afraid." Galadriel said. She tilted her head. "My enemies should have been afraid had I been killed."

Galadriel left the room in a brisk, confident walk. Haldir easily matched her pace but stayed behind her. Her hands were balled into fists, her fingernails digging deep into her palms. The dark red sash about her waist whipped side to side and she pulled it forward impatiently. She finally reached her room.

"Leave me," she commanded the servants. They murmured assent and left. Only Haldir remained. Galadriel sat down on a lofty couch. She leaned forward and rested her head in both of her hands. She did not allow the grief of her lost company overwhelm her even though it threatened to. Haldir did not say anything, but remained behind her like a silent protective pillar. Her common senses told not to grieve since her handmaidens and guards would want her to continue her cause. For a moment she wondered if the cause was worthy enough to risk more lives before she curtly nipped the thought in the bud. Of course it was worthy. Arda system needed this allegiance. As much as it could its own in the dangers of Outer Rim, it needed reinforcements.

"Senator Bail Organa is here to see you, my lady." Galadriel raised her brows in surprise.

"Send him in." She said. The aide nodded and left. Galadriel rose from her seat as the man entered the room. He was dressed in deep purple robes that only added to his elegant stride. The man was young, and new to politics, but already he was well-loved and with many allies.

"Senator," Galadriel greeted the man with a warm smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I heard about the attempt on your life. I needed to make sure with my own eyes that you were safe." She raised her hands which he clasped in his own. There was bare honesty in his dark eyes.

"I am well, thanks to my loyal captain," Galadriel looked over her shoulder at Haldir, who bowed his head towards the man. "I am beginning to be in great debt of him."

"I was only doing my duty, my lady." Haldir murmured.

"I only wish we had many men like you in the galaxy, Captain Haldir."

"You honour me." Haldir only said. Organa smiled and turned his attention to Galadriel, who ushered him to a seat.

"So how are things at the Senate?" Galadriel asked.

"As well as they can be under the circumstances. The incident of Naboo and the consequent blockade and war brought tension into the Senate."

"And my arrival did nothing to worsen it?"

"It would seem they were not expecting you to arrive."

"I see." Her two words came out cold and clipped. Organa passed her an apologetic look.

"Do not blame them. Any system that newly joins the Senate is often underestimated."

Galadriel only give a bitter laugh and said nothing. This was starting to become a headache.

"Have you not been offered additional guard?" Organa said.

"No, I haven't. At least not yet."

"That is unacceptable." He said firmly. The young man stood up. "I will speak to Chancellor Palpatine immediately. You must be offered Jedi as guards."

"Oh, you mean Jedi. Yes. I have been offered them. And I was advised to accept."

"And the Jedi did not arrive yet?"

"It has barely been half an hour since I left the Chancellor."

"Ah, I see. Well, then. I am sure there will be a Jedi knocking your door within the hour. As for the talks," Organa rose and pressed his lips against her hand. "Do not worry. I have many allies in my favour and I am sure I can move them to sympathise your position." With that, the young man looked up at her face and winked.

At the sight of Bail Organa's warm smile, Galadriel could not help but smile in return. There was something so plainly sincere about the man. It was as if he wore his emotions bare. And yet there was steel inside him that made him firm and capable of politics. She hoped he remained the same in this dirty game of politics. He bowed and took his leave. When he left, Galadriel's heart was somewhat lighter.

"What do you think of Senator Organa, Haldir?"

"He seems to be a man willing to work for the greater good, and brave enough to take the risk, my lady."

"Yes," Galadriel said softly. "It would seem those are my very thoughts." Then she stirred and turned to a nearby servant. "I need to speak to Jedi Knight Thranduil."

"I will see to it immediately."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

And there we have the first chapter. :) Do leave a review.

 **Help List:**

-Coruscant is a planet where the Senate as well as the Jedi Order resides.

-Weequay is a planet well known for piracy.

 **Replies to Anon:**

Just A Reviewer: Shire? Tsk, tsk, that would be telling, my dear friend. :D Yes, Mace is definitely an important Jedi. Don't worry though. I won't lose you guys in the description. :D


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

Thanks to Just A Reviewer, Mirkwood Warrior, Enchanted Stream, DORK DOG, LadyLindariel, Raider-K, Elleth of Mossflower, Pip the Dark Lord of All, BrightPath2, horseyyay, Smileyxs Ice-Cream Sprinkles, Silver Ink Pen, ATP, Blondiezhere, JJ for their reviews.

Special thanks to all the members of the forum, for their neverending support and help.

Also thanks to Raider-K for her advice.

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Once they entered the atmosphere of Rivendell, Thranduil looked out the window. The skies were clear and the afternoon sun shone bright. His ship descended slowly, since the city was in a valley nestled between mountains and rising plains. The scenery was lush green from plants and trees and the city stood out in stark comparison with its light golden brown buildings and red tiled roofs. Water from the mountains cascaded down in numerous waterfalls that ran in streams throughout the city.

"Permission to land is approved. Landing pad is clear. Beginning our descent," His pilot's calm, crisp voice sounded from the speaker. Thranduil glanced towards it and said nothing. The city steadily loomed closer as they descended down to the pad. The ship finally shuddered once they reached ground.

"All personnel should disembark." Thranduil ordered through a comm. Link.

"Yes, Sir."

When he left his ship, the sweet fragrance coming from the fresh flowers hit him first after breathing in the artificial environment of his ship. He looked around him. Rivendell was calm, serene and beautiful, full of lively colours. It was impossible not to feel at peace here in the city. Elrond's efforts were not in vain. Speaking of him, Thranduil found a familiar form of a dark-haired Elf hurrying down the steps to meet him. Thranduil smiled.

"Lord Elrond," he called before the Elf drew close. "Well met!"

"Well met indeed," Elrond answered, swiftly reaching him. He grasped Thranduil's elbow in the form of a warrior's greeting. Thranduil reciprocated. "I trust your mission was a success?"

"Not wholly, much to my regret. Three of the girls perished before I arrived." Elrond's face darkened at this. Thranduil clasped his wrist briefly to regain his attention before continuing, "One of them is severely injured. She has deep whiplashes but is otherwise untouched."

Elrond's jaw worked at an alarming rate before he stiffly nodded. It was in these times that Thranduil realized Elrond's sheer power and strength packed in his body behind the visage of a noble pursuing the non-violent career of a healer. Elrond was not the kind to mess with, but Thranduil found no reason to have a conflict with him. Elrond was a peace-loving Elf, but that did not mean he was a pacifist. From the rumours of how well he handled the ancient weapons of sword, bow and arrows, he knew Elrond was very capable.

Finally, Elrond seemed to have conjured enough composure to reply.

"I see," he said in carefully measured tone. Thranduil briefly wondered what it would be like to have Elrond as an enemy. He was suddenly glad to see him as a friend. "And what about the pirates?"

"There were two Weequay pirates and one former corsair of Umbar."

"Former? How do you know?"

"Because there is no corsair hailing from Umbar would join another species for pirating. They look to their own first."

"I see."

"The man is injured but the other two are fine, only a little bruised." Thranduil saw more Elves hurry down the steps. Many were Ellyth, no doubt to sooth the girls and tend to them. Guards appeared to take the pirates. They weren't harsh but they weren't gentle either. "The man was the one who injured the girl and killed the other three. I want him stabilized and I would like to have an interrogation cell."

"Of course," Elrond murmured. But his mind was elsewhere when he looked upon the man. "He is the one? I assume I could misplace some painkillers and leave him without."

The light, conversational tone in which Elrond said it made Thranduil laugh.

"You could have but not that I know, as a Jedi I cannot allow you to do so. You needn't worry," Thranduil added when he saw Elrond about to protest, "After I am done with him, I will send him to Gondor as a gift." They both knew the strong dislike Gondor had for the black Númenóreans. Elrond gave a small grim smile.

"That will be satisfying," Elrond remarked. Before Thranduil had the chance to reply, Elrond turned on his heel and called over his shoulder to follow him. Thranduil followed him.

* * *

The pirate he chose for interrogation was the second Weequay pirate he encountered. He seemed to be weaker than his companions, and while he could subdue any of them, Thranduil knew he could easily use the Force upon him if he refused to give answers.

In the beginning they only sat there without either of them speaking. The pirate looked at him with a look of a caged animal. He was clearly nervous, and his eyes darted to the steel walls encasing them in a simple, empty room with only a table between them and two chairs they were sitting on. Thranduil was sitting comfortably, leaning back against his seat, his legs crossed and one finger of a hand tapping against the metallic table.

"Where are you from?" Thranduil asked. Keep it short. Keep it simple. Start with the obvious. That was his training.

"You know where from." The pirate's voice was guttural but jerky as if he was afraid but adamant on not showing it.

"Weequay," Thranduil said. "You are far from your home." Thranduil studied the humanoid. "What happened? Were you exiled?"

"I don't answer to Jedi scum like you."

"I am no scum." Thranduil's voice was flat, emotionless. "Why were you here?"

No answer. Thranduil unfolded his legs and pushed the table forward with his knee. It slammed against the pirate's chest. The handcuffs around the pirate's hands rattled. "Answer me."

"The girls. We wanted to capture the girls."

"For what purpose?"

"I don't know." The pirate croaked. He kept his gaze down, refused to meet Thranduil's eyes.

"You don't know." Thranduil repeated. He pushed the table further. "How is it you don't know what you do with the girls?"

"We sell them!"

"To who?"

"I don't know."

"The same way you didn't know the previous question," Thranduil asked. Then he scoffed, "Unlikely."

"I swear to you I don't know!"

Thranduil leaned forward and placed both his elbows on the table. He held one hand up, palm facing outwards. The Force seeped into his senses, this time coating his voice and filling it with power it didn't possess without the Force.

"You will tell me what you know," Thranduil said, passing his hand over the pirate's face, not touching him. The pirate's jaw slackened. His eyes became unfocused. His entire form relaxed, leaving him in a suggestible state.

"I don't know who the buyers are." The pirate said. His voice was dull, without the nervousness and fear in which he answered questions earlier. "They send us coordinates where to drop the girls… or any captured Elves. We drop them there and we have bounty waiting for us in return."

"Where is this money?"

"In the ship, but it is untraceable credits. The communications link is also untraceable."

Thranduil tried not to let his frustration show. Another dead end. This made no sense whatsoever. At the time, he considered they could resolve this amongst themselves without the intervention of the Jedi Order. But now, he considered having the pool of Jedi's vast resources would actually help him.

Sighing, Thranduil rose and left the room. The door whizzed shut behind him and the guard standing outside acknowledged him before locking the door. Immersed deep in thought, Thranduil followed the corridor before turning the sharp corner.

His Force senses prickled, making him step the side until he had his back pressed against the wall of the narrow corridor. He looked up and found that he avoided crashing into someone else, who only paused and looked at him in amusement.

"Your instincts are strong, Master Jedi," The voice was deep, low as if coated with velvet. But Thranduil felt his skin crawl with distrust. He straightened and ran his hands over his robes.

"I am only a Jedi Knight," Thranduil corrected. He kept his tone even. There was no reason to dislike him solely for the reason he nearly bumped into him. As for correcting him, while 'Master' was only a respectable term used for all Jedi, it made Thranduil uncomfortable. He preferred 'Sir', if any formalities were to be had.

Thranduil looked him over. His skin was pale with an ethereal glow, and his pitch black hair fell freely in silky locks over his shoulders and across his back. His face was finely chiselled and underneath his deep blue robes, the Elf clearly had a fit, muscled form. The collar of his robes was decorated with white gems set in vines of silver, an extraordinary work of craftsmanship. In any event, there was no doubt in his mind, with the feel of power radiating from the being before him, that this was no Elf, but rather a Maiar.

While Thranduil was scrutinizing him, the unknown Maiar was doing the same for Thranduil as well. And a slow, lazy smile appeared on his face. Thranduil's feeling of distrust heightened at the sight of it. Whoever this person was, he looked down on him with the satisfaction of superiority, as if Thranduil was weaker or biddable.

"I am sorry," Thranduil said. "I wasn't looking when I turned the corner." He didn't know precisely why he apologized. If anything, he only wanted to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Clearly." At that, Thranduil clenched his teeth but the Maiar continued, "You have much to think of, Jedi Knight. I will be on my way." The Maiar would have stridden off had Thranduil not stopped him in his tracks by his question.

"And who might you be?" Thranduil asked curiously.

"You may call me Annatar."

"I am-"

"I know very well who you are, Jedi Knight Thranduil Oropherion. You have your father's looks about you." Annatar gave him a small but charming smile before nodding his head briefly. "I must go. I am needed elsewhere."

"Good meeting you."

"Likewise."

Annatar inclined his head and strode off, his robes trailing behind him. For a moment, Thranduil stared after him, wondering how the Maiar left so suddenly. He already seemed to have a destination in mind, but the speed came later during the conversation.

"Curious being, isn't he?"

"Don't you know how rude it is, sneaking up on a guest?" Thranduil said, turning to face Elrond.

"You seemed deep in thought."

"Everyone keeps saying that."

"Most likely because it was true," Elrond said with a smile on his face. His hands were clasped behind him and he was dressed in autumn colours of brown and red. His cloak was twisted across his chest and thrown over one shoulder. "What do you think of Annatar?"

"First meetings hardly ever make an impression."

"Ah. Not even to your Jedi senses?"

Thranduil fell silent. But Elrond raised his brows in a silent query.

"I think he is hiding something."

"Then it seems my suspicions are true."

"You do not trust him?"

"No," Elrond said. "And I am more open about it that you. But Gil-Galad and Celebrimbor both think highly of him. Still, Gil-Galad still entertains his own doubts concerning Annatar. And I do not know as of yet what to make of him." Elrond gestured at Thranduil to walk and together they passed out into openly ventilated corridors, where the sunlight streamed from where the walls should be. The roof above them was held by numerous pillars.

"Perhaps in time, our suspicions will be in vain. Wait," Thranduil said, frowning. He turned his head towards Elrond. "He was swift in leaving. Is he avoiding you?"

Elrond's face changed into an emotion Thranduil could not decide. It looked grave but held no regret.

"I made my opinion clear that I did not trust Annatar during a meeting with the Noldorin smiths. It was not well-received by the smiths but a few words back and forth made Annatar retreat." Elrond paused for a moment. "I can't say I am upset by it."

Thranduil only nodded and digested the information.

"What of the pirates?" Elrond asked. Thranduil sighed in frustration. He learned a little, but he still hadn't learned enough.

"The two Weequay pirates are to board my ship. I would imagine they are already doing so. The corsair I leave you to send to Gondor." Thranduil pinned Elrond down with a withering look. "And I want him sent there unharmed."

Elrond chuckled.

"I will make sure of it." Elrond promised with his voice so solemn Thranduil would have thought he was mocking him if it weren't for the fact Elrond never mocked him. "And what of the pirates?"

"Most likely I will be taking them to the Jedi Temple at Coruscant for further interrogation." If he did ever go to Coruscant, Thranduil thought silently. At the mention of Coruscant, Elrond's pleasant look faded.

"I have news of Lady Galadriel's arrival to Coruscant."

"Hm? And what of it?"

"She was nearly assassinated as soon as she left her ship," Thranduil turned and looked at Elrond sharply. "A carrier containing explosives crashed into her ship. She is well, but she lost majority of her escort."

For a brief moment, Thranduil considered contacting her but then he immediately rejected the idea. Galadriel was more than capable of taking care of herself. It was better to wait for her to contact him.

"You will stay for tonight?"

"Oh no, I intend to leave immediately."

"Already," Elrond folded his arms with a curve of his lips. "I thought you liked my company."

Thranduil laughed.

"As much as I enjoy the comforts of Rivendell, I really must be going home."

"I am hurt."

"You'll live." Thranduil retorted. Elrond chuckled and led him down to the landing pad.

"You are not a good healer," Elrond remarked. "I hope to see you soon."

"I hope so as well," Thranduil returned, and found that he truly meant it. "Although I hope the next time we meet, I do not have to bring freed prisoners or pirates with me."

Elrond sobered.

"Indeed, I hope not."

They reached Thranduil's ship. There, Thranduil nodded his head at Elrond.

"Well, I must be going then."

Elrond raised a brow and smirked. For a moment, Thranduil did not understand the emotion behind it. Then Elrond grabbed Thranduil by his outer robe near his collar and pulled him into an embrace. Thranduil froze, unsure what to do before returning his embrace. When Elrond pulled away, the normally serious look on his face disappeared for a grin that told Thranduil he was laughing at him.

"Celeborn did say you have grown awkward after joining the Jedi."

Thranduil threw him an irritated look.

"I will have a word with my kin." He vowed. Although Celeborn respected him greatly, he never ceased to tease him. And Celeborn was the only one who managed to get an upper hand over him.

"Goodbye then."

"Goodbye," Thranduil said softly.

* * *

It was near evening when Thranduil reached the Temple. He chose to sit on the open platform on top of the Jedi Temple, where he could easily calm his thoughts and set them in proper order. Thranduil loved this particular part of the Temple. He had his legs swung over and dangling over the sheer drop below.

It gave him an eagle's view, with leagues of trees stretching out below him. He often felt that the planets were poorly named. Essentially, only the forest was named Mirkwood. There was a large lake some distance away where the Men lived. Beyond that was the Lonely Mountain that stood apart from all the rocky mountain ranges. But the names that were given from the time the system was first discovered stuck.

Thranduil breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh scent of earth and water mixed after a rainfall. Mirkwood was a planet with cool temperature, being furthest from their sun. Winter was harsh and snowfalls were deep. Summer, on the other hand, was cool and blissful. There were no strange creatures here like there were in different planets. Here, birds, foxes, and wolves dwelled, along with deer and fowl that the Elves hunted for game.

His musings were interrupted by the resounding steps of someone coming towards him. He looked up and found a Dwarf coming to stand behind him.

"What is it?"

"Senator Galadriel is waiting to speak to you."

"Patch her through to my room." Thranduil said, already swinging his legs off the fence and bounding the stairs before the Dwarf even moved. When he reached his room, he pressed the blinking white button quickly and waited for the hologram to appear. It flickered slightly before coming into full view.

"Thranduil," Galadriel said warmly when she caught sight of him.

Thranduil did a quick appraisal of her. She looked well, except for the newfound grief in her eyes. He found no cuts and scrapes on her figure as far as he could tell. The red gown with its almost black sash did not suit her, though. He raised his eyes to meet hers.

"You look terrible in red." He stated. It earned him a quick laugh.

"I never thought you were the kind to have a high fashion sense."

"Jedi Order is always ahead of all forms of fashion."

"And by that you mean that the Jedi Order is so constant throughout the ages that you do not need to follow fashion. In fact, those robes are the drabbest I have ever seen," Galadriel paused for effect, a smile playing around her lips, "if they are capable of being called robes."

Thranduil burst out laughing. He never tired from his conversations with Galadriel. She gave as good as she got. Then he looked down at himself. All his Jedi robes were forest green in colour, with a hint of dull gold leaf pattern along the edges.

"I don't look half-bad." Thranduil protested. "At least it is better than wearing the brown ones I wore as a Padawan."

Galadriel scoffed but apparently kept her opinion to herself. Still, there was a small smile that tugged the corner of her lips. Thranduil's smile faded.

"How are you?"

"I am well as I can be." Galadriel's voice dropped until it was barely higher than a whisper. "There are so many dead. My aide, my guards, the pilots. All of them gone."

"I heard. I am sorry for the loss. Is there any investigation?"

"The Jedi are looking into it."

"Then I do not think you should worry."

"Says a Jedi."

"Says your kin by marriage," Thranduil said. Then he blinked. Jedi do not form attachments. But she looked so alone that he could not help himself. "Have you spoken to Celeborn?"

"Yes. He was furious. I had to calm him before he marched up here and ruined the talks."

"The Senate will still meet?"

"Obviously, but you know how it will be. It is all a play of emotion. I hope I can gather sympathy from this incident, but then some may think that it is only a proof that we are not to be trusted."

"Well," Thranduil said, wanting lighten the situation and hopefully bring a larger smile on Galadriel's face. " **You** might not be trustworthy, but the rest of the system warrants some form of trust."

Galadriel's laughter rocked the speakers.

"I am more trustworthy than you!" She protested, voice still quivering with mirth.

"I find that highly unlikely. You are ferocious when angered… with a very strong arm if I recall correctly."

Galadriel raised both her brows and accepted Thranduil's unspoken challenge.

"I will have you know that Amroth deserved every bit of it."

"Yes, well, I do agree throwing a vase at him was very satisfying to watch."

"He was teasing me!"

"You were **drunk**."

"Was I? I seem to recall a certain young Elf making sure my glass was always full." Galadriel raised a single brow. Thranduil immediately raised his hands in universal symbol for surrender.

"I simply wanted to see how you would be if wine coated your senses."

"And I am sure the answer was more than satisfactory."

"It was, indeed," Thranduil let his voice drawl. He remembered grinning ear to ear after Galadriel's antics. Although, Galadriel knew fully well how to take her own vengeance.

"Celeborn wasn't happy at the time."

"Obviously. That vase once belonged to his parents."

"Well, I hated it." Galadriel said, raising a single hand, palm facing towards him in a gesture of finality. They both laughed and lapsed into a happier silence than the one before it. Each one of them mulled over old memories. Among Celeborn's kin, it was Oropher and Thranduil who welcomed Galadriel most heartedly. And Thranduil treated her as if she were his sister. They were young when they had gotten in such mischief. In some ways, they were still young, though they had let go of their foolish endeavours as the years passed by.

"Are you happy?"

The question took Thranduil off guard.

"What?" He asked blankly.

"Are you happy being here as a Jedi?" Galadriel elaborated. Then she fixed Thranduil with a stern look when he opened his mouth. "And do not lie to me."

Thranduil took a deep breath.

"I am content." He said at last. Galadriel remained silent and looked at him carefully. Thranduil felt the oddest sensation of being scrutinized as if he were a naughty child caught making off with a tray full of sweets.

"I hope you are, Thranduil." Galadriel said. "You deserve happiness with such a kind heart as yourself."

"Don't, Galadriel. I will blush."

Galadriel snorted in a way not befitting a lady or a senator. Thranduil hoped desperately she would not pursue the conversation. She tilted her head to the side and Thranduil heard a murmur coming from her end.

"I must go," she said. "Senator Organa has declared a dinner in his quarters in my honour. I am to attend it and see if I can move some politicians in my favour."

"I am sure you would be splendid."

Galadriel laughed. After a brief farewell, Thranduil disconnected the link. Night had fallen swiftly. So before he went to bed, he sat down and meditated. It was barely an hour of meditation, where the Force seemed to flow into every part of his body, soothing and calming him that he was interrupted once again by the blinking and chirping of the comm. Channel.

He unfolded his legs and got up before reaching over and pressing the button winking white up at him. A hologram appeared and this time it was none other than Master Plo Koon.

Plo Koon was Kel Dor male who not only had the highest obtainable rank of Jedi Master, but also belonged to the Jedi Council. Facing him right now, he wore a mask over the lower half of his face to aid in his breathing, the air being poisonous to his kind in lands where the climate did not match the native one of his own planet. His black eyes with silver irises bore down on Thranduil but Thranduil knew by nature, he was a gentle soul with a practical mind underneath his strange, off-worldly appearance.

"Jedi Knight Thranduil," He said. His voice sounded mechanical underneath his mask. "It is good to see you." Thranduil gave a brief small smile as he bowed his head.

"As it is to see you, Master," Thranduil said, tilting his head respectfully. "May I ask why you have contacted me?"

"Master Yoda wishes you to return to Coruscant."

Thranduil frowned.

"I am stationed here in Arda system. There is no other Jedi to take my place."

"Your presence in Coruscant is a necessity."

"And what precisely is the nature of this necessity?" Thranduil pressed.

"You will be briefed once you reach the Jedi Temple." The finality in the Master's voice made it certain he would not know more until he went there himself. Thranduil inclined his head.

"As you wish."

With the final note of farewell, the hologram disconnected.

Frustrated, Thranduil exhaled heavily through his nose.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Edit: There was a line cut off. It has been edited.

-Well, there was have it. Thrandy is finally going to Coruscant. Let the mayhem begin!

-Now I hope you guys enjoyed this. I will not return to my own circle of chaos which I left behind for the sake of this chapter. :)

-Do leave a review!

 **Help List:**

-The Force: Mystic energy that runs through the universe of Star Wars.

-Jedi: Beings from different species capable of harnessing the Force and using it. Jedi use it for good. Their counterpart, Sith, use it for evil.

-Jedi Order: The Order of the Jedi or oragnization of the Jedi.

-Jedi Knight: A Jedi who has completed his training.

-Jedi Master: A Jedi who has taken an apprentice. (Highest rank)

-Jedi Padawan: A Jedi in training/ apprentice.

-Jedi Council: Which controls the Jedi Order. It is formed solely by Jedi Masters, although some exceptions are made.

 **Replies to Anon:**

Just a Reviewer: Oh yes it would be telling! :D I must keep my secrets safe! *hides secrets*. I will have to tell them eventually but no! Not yet! XD

ATP: It is fanfiction.

JJ: This started out as an idea I had over the years. I mentioned it in the forum, and viola! I was pushed to write it. ;)


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

Thanks to multiple anon reviewers, ATP, Sky, JJ, Mirkwood warrior, LadyLindariel, Raider-K, Certh, horseyyay, Pip the Dark Lord of All, BrightPath2, Elleth of Mossflower, Knights-of-Ni, Teapot of Transformation, Jesus' girl 4 ever, Myvanwy, Silver Ink Pen, SmileyXs Ice-cream Sprinkles for their reviews.

As always, thanks to the WG forum for their support.

Special thanks to WoodElfJedi and Raider-K for their help.

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

When Thranduil rested the side of his head against the window and looked out, he met the scenic view of skyscrapers kissing the sapphire-coloured sky. Coruscant had a beauty of its own. It was a bustling city that never slept. There was always some form of activity going on, whether it was in the lowermost slums to the dwellings of the highborn dignitaries. As the centre of the Republic, it had wide diversity of species and culture.

Aside from the Senate building, the Jedi temple was the next most famous landmark of Coruscant. On the outside, the temple looked more like a fortress than a sanctuary for meditation and teaching. But Thranduil knew better.

His escort lowered the transport down at the edge of the temple. Thranduil thanked him before getting off, his outer robe hitting the back of his calves once he hopped down. The transport whizzed away and Thranduil fixed his eyes on the looming building in front of him, the very core and beating heart of the Jedi Order.

The even steps leading up to the entrance of the temple were narrow and many, but well-maintained. Better known as the processional way, it led up to the open doors of the temple. These were guarded with four larger than life statues of the Jedi who founded the Jedi Order.

This time of the morning, the inhabitants of the temple were wide awake. He found the elderly sitting in the shade, conversing in low tones. Some of the older Padawans sat in small clusters with their study materials. Thranduil stifled his smile. As much as he enjoyed his time as a Padawan, Thranduil was happy to leave it all behind, particularly when it came to studying.

As he neared the great statues, he found a reasonably large group of Initiates using the Force to play with a crystal. Thranduil slowed down. Initiates were Force-sensitive children, younger than the Padawans. The group in front of him was very young, the youngest being human barely six or seven years old. Thranduil stopped in his tracks and watched them. Such children were too dangerous to be left untaught. So once discovered, the children were brought to the temple for early training.

They showed remarkable restraint with the Force, Thranduil thought. The crystal wobbled in the air but bounced safely from one child's hand to the next. They giggled amongst themselves, every once in a while a child would protest if he or she went without the crystal for too long. Smiling, Thranduil leaned against the wall and folded his hands in his wide sleeves. He judged he spent good ten minutes there but he wasn't inclined to enter the temple yet.

Then one of the children, a Twi'lek with light blue skin and wide eyes, pushed the gem too hard. It sailed over their heads and hurtled straight at Thranduil in high speed.

The crystal would have smacked his cheek had he not raised his own hand, and used his Force to stop it. Now the crystal hovered over the palm of his right hand, shining brightly with the strength of his Force. He looked down at the younglings with an impassive face and a single raised brow and nearly laughed to himself. They all looked ashamed.

He did not say anything. He managed to hide his amusement. Some children shifted on their feet and mumbled apologies. Others looked downright frightened of him. He could not blame them. His height was good six foot six inches. He was towering over them.

Finally he could not resist. Thranduil's laugh startled them. Some looked up at him hopefully. Others were wary.

"Well," Thranduil said lightly, his eyes twinkling in mirth. "We can't have the crystal bumping and poking everyone who passes us by. How about we go inside and I show you how to control the Force better?"

He was fully aware that Yoda was waiting for him, probably with Mace Windu. But then, he wasn't one to follow orders immediately.

And he was sure they knew it too.

* * *

Mace looked out the half-shuttered window. The window overlooked the indoor square gardens of the temple but the beauty did little to sooth his heart this time.

"Worried, you are." Yoda's voice rasped behind him. Mace did not look.

"I am." He answered evenly. He heard Yoda's steady breathing behind him. When the Grandmaster spoke again, it was just as peaceful as before.

"Consider Thranduil capable, you do not."

"That isn't precisely true." Mace protested. He finally tore his gaze away from the gardens and looked at the elderly Jedi. Yoda sat cross-legged on a cushioned circular seat, one of the many arranged across the small meditation room. Mace sat down on one opposite to Yoda. He folded his legs and wrapped his arms around them. He studied the Grandmaster in brief silence.

Yoda did not seem to be disturbed by Mace's scrutiny. His eyes remained closed, his chest heaving slowly and steadily in meditation. His gnarled, long-nailed green hands rested on his knees. The cane rested horizontally in front of Yoda.

"I don't know what to make of him." Mace said with a sigh. Yoda surprised him with high-pitched laugh.

"Admit it, finally, you do." Yoda remarked. He opened his eyes and grabbed his cane, all the while chuckling. Mace looked at him perplexed. He never liked being mocked. He never liked his sentences to be taken in humour when they were so seriously given. So when faced with this absurd situation where Yoda seemed to be amused with his statement, he retreated into practicality.

"He follows the Jedi Creed and yet shows blatant disregard for protocol or orders," Mace protested. Yoda hopped down from his seat and began to make his way slowly to the door. His wooden cane tapped on the floor as he walked. Mace quickly got off his seat and followed him, trying to continue the conversation. Yoda, much to his surprise and exasperation, seemed more amused. "He is an able swordsman, capable of battling in the front lines and yet chooses a quiet life overseeing his own system-"

"Misses home he does." Yoda interrupted. Mace tried a different tactic.

"He could have studied the Force and found more ingenious ways to harness and use it-"

"Content with his position he is."

Refusing to admit defeat, Mace found himself repeating.

"He doesn't follow orders or protocol."

"Enjoys teasing you he does."

Mace skidded to a halt and stared at Yoda. Then the Grandmaster _sniggered_ at him.

"Amusing it is to watch."

"It isn't." Mace muttered. "And where is he? He is supposed to be here half an hour ago."

"Open to the Force and you will find him. Right there he is." Yoda said. He lifted his cane and pointed with it at the faraway balcony. Curious, Mace glanced at Yoda before making his way there.

He heard children's laughter, mixed with the masculine laughter of an adult. Mace could feel his own heart lighten at the sound of the latter, as if he wished to hear more of it. He walked up to the balcony and looked down. The sight that met his eyes was unbelievable. The figure dressed in green robes with dull golden embroidery was unmistakably recognizable, his braided golden hair gleaming in the light. He was nestled in a large crowd of Initiates, all of whom seemed perfectly at ease with him.

"Waylaid he was by the children." Yoda said, chuckling.

Mace saw that it was true. A long, thin, finely cut crystal hovered above them. Mace recognized that crystal as one of the many that Jedi instructors used to help the children harness their use of the Force. It hovered from one child's palm to the next before eventually passing on to Thranduil. The Elf seemed focused in his task, so much so that he didn't notice the gathering up at the balconies to watch him. He animatedly gestured with his hands as he instructed them with bottomless patience. Mace noticed how he was particularly gentle with the children, his sharp Elven features softening unlike Mace had ever seen before. He gave even the weaker ones his full undivided attention. He even managed to coax the shyness out of one of the apprentices.

"He is good with younglings." Mace said in wonder. He didn't know what he thought of Thranduil but he never expected _this_.

"He is, indeed." Yoda rasped. He didn't hop over the banister to look down. Rather he peered through the wide gaps in the tempered flat steel running along the balcony edge.

"Why didn't he choose the path of a Jedi Instructor?" Mace asked without looking at Yoda. Mace had to admit; this side of Thranduil was… refreshing to see. One of the children accidentally used too much Force to propel the crystal. It hit the unsuspecting Elf at the back of his head before falling on the floor with a clutter. For a moment Mace wondered how he would react. Again, his suspicions were unfounded. The Elf picked up the crystal and told the child to try again. Mace could not help but softly smile. Many of the initiates did not know how to control their use of the Force. Almost all of them were frightened by their own strengths. They needed gentle instructors to teach them.

He then became aware that Yoda had not answered his question. He looked down but Yoda's eyes were on the Elf, his lips slightly pursed.

"Something happened, didn't it?" Mace guessed. Yoda took in a deep breath before he rumbled.

"Yes."

"When?"

"One year after Knighthood."

Mace wondered whether he should press further but decided the knowledge was enough for now. Yoda did not seem bent on sharing either.

"But where is their instructor?" Mace wondered. He craned his neck more to see and found her, standing over the balcony nearest to them. Feeling their eyes on her, she strode up to them, elegantly dressed in altered robes as a gown.

"I meant to step in," she said. "But he handles them so well that I was not needed."

"Take them you should. Speak to Thranduil we must." Yoda said. The instructor agreed and quickly went down the steps. Mace and Windu followed her. With a quick word for Thranduil, the instructor gathered her students and led them away. Mace playfully ruffled the hair of an apprentice as the Initiates passed him by. Thranduil bid them goodbye with a friendly smile.

Mace turned his attention to Thranduil. The Elf suddenly seemed to notice the crowd hovering over the balconies and lingering on the steps. Mace tried not to smirk when he caught the faint dusting of pink across Thranduil's cheeks. He briefly considering teasing him, but decided to have some pity on the already embarrassed Elf. Besides, he was not close to the Elf for him to have such freedom.

Such scrutiny was uncommon, but then Thranduil was among the first people chosen from Arda system. Men, Elves and Dwarves had difficult time settling in. While there was no outright hostility, it caused slight disruption in the normal functioning of the Order. But as Mace and Yoda approached the Elf, many of the Jedi looked upon the Grandmaster and had the sense to withdraw. Those that didn't stayed and diverted their attention elsewhere.

"Good to see you, it is." Yoda said warmly. He stopped short of Thranduil, placed both his wrinkled hands on the top of his cane and peered up at the Elf. "Persuade you still to teach youngling I can."

Thranduil placed his fists on his hips and laughed.

"Never," Thranduil vowed. "That was more than enough."

"Useful you would be. Like you, Initiates will." Yoda tried again. But judging from the playful smiles the two exchanged, Mace assumed the conversation followed both humorous and serious tones. But Thranduil folded his arms and shook his head.

"The answer is still no, Master Yoda."

Mace couldn't believe what he was hearing. Thranduil had a gift of teaching. He interjected without thinking, "You have a way with younglings. Your contribution will be perfect in teaching them."

A slow lazy smile crawled on Thranduil's face. Mace suddenly realized he was trapped.

"Were you watching, Master Windu? Curious, I never thought your heart could be so gentle."

Mace stiffened.

"I never said I enjoyed your tomfoolery when we were kept waiting." Mace said gruffly. He tilted his head downward, his posture straightening. Much to his silent dismay, Thranduil's smile grew wider. He was enjoying the fact his feathers were ruffled. "Come. It is time you answered the summons that brought you here in the first place… unless of course you decide to be a child again and undergo knighthood once more."

"I would love to but I think I have imposed on the masters long enough the first time around." Thranduil retorted. Mace opened his mouth to reply but his mind was utterly blank. So he closed his mouth and turned around, his robes whirling about him, and stalked off. Yoda kept a pace beside him and Mace was dimly aware of Thranduil following close behind.

Mace could have sworn he caught a smile on Yoda's face but when he looked, Yoda's expression was firmly impassive.

* * *

The Grand Convocation Chamber was a formal chamber built resembling the inside of a sphere. Multiple balconies jutted into the chamber, counting up to roughly a thousand. At the moment, all the balconies were filled. These balconies were in fact pods, capable of hovering in the air, and as such Galadriel's pod floated steadily around the chamber. While she was several feet off the ground, she did not feel unsteady. The pod was completely flawless in design and all pods were checked for any trace of sabotage before a meeting.

At the moment, though, Galadriel's own focus was on keeping her temper in check. Her elegant, flowing white dress accentuated by white gems scattering on the rich cloth made her already glowing, immortal form seem ethereal and otherworldly. Her hair, a perfect blend between gold and silver, was loose over her back and gleamed in a smooth sheet. A circlet rested on her brow. While she presented an image of a superior being and left many tongue-tied in her wake as she approached the chamber early that morning, it was clear there were some who were less than impressed and very eager to point out flaws.

One of them was a very vocal politician belonging to the species of Twi'leks. These were humanoids with skins coloured in various shades; green, blue, yellow among others. They had two long protrusions from their heads that were extensions of the brain and various coloured irises set in whites. They all had bony, lithe structures… well except for the one before her. Senator Orn Free Taa was his name, an obese male Twi'lek who had more love for food than his worth in politics. He decked himself with the most expensive jewellery and clothes to flaunt his wealth, and his snivelling ways made his corrupt heart all the more obvious.

"I admit I am not convinced, Senator Galadriel," Senator Taa said. He raised his hand towards Galadriel, his bony knuckles and long nails prominent. "What does your system have to offer that the Republic doesn't already have?"

Galadriel clenched and unclenched her jaw before replying coolly, "You forget, Senator Taa, that it is through the Arda system that the Republic is able to chart safer routes through the Outer Rim." The Outer Rim was distant from the Republic. There, the Republican laws did not apply. To have a foothold in that part of the galaxy run by drug dealers, slavers, renegades and outlaws was a feature Republic could not hope to lose… which is why Galadriel found this conversation meaningless. Nevertheless, she entertained it for the sake of decorum.

"But we cannot simply accept your system, given its past," Senator Taa said. He turned his attention to the rest of the senators. "The history of the Arda system is bloody indeed."

There were murmurs of agreement around Galadriel. Without moving her head, her eyes fluttered around, marking the nods and whispers. This was dangerous. Once the notion took root, she would have a difficult time proving them otherwise. For one thing, the Senate was stubborn. She had to nip this threat from the bud.

Galadriel trained her eyes on her opponent. Senator Taa's large lips were spread up in a smile. It looked unflattering on his massive face with sagging fat below his chin. She breathed in evenly. Behind her, she was dimly aware of Haldir's presence; close but not intrusive. It oddly seemed comforting and supportive. It was an effect Galadriel knew Haldir was not aware of. He always exuded this fine quality of protectiveness and loyalty while he was on duty. It was trait that made him valuable.

Returning her attention back to the sneering politician opposite to her, Galadriel lifted her head and pursed her lips lightly.

"There are many renegades hovering in your own system, Senator," Galadriel said. "And yet you are here unquestioned." The senator's planet Ryloth was harsh and dangerous environment to live in.

There was a brief silence as the fat humanoid narrowed his eyes at her, but Galadriel turned her attention to Chancellor Palpatine. There was a ghost of a smile curving his lips. Past his shoulder, her eyes met those of Senator Organa for a split second before she addressed the Senate.

"My fellow senators," Galadriel said. "Our system has a rich and vivid history much like any other system present in the galaxy. No race is without fault, and our species are inexcusable to this fact. What matters now is the decision we will take in the Senate today. We stand before one another to forge a new alliance that could well turn into friendship, a friendship that will benefit all parties." Her eyes swept over the numerous faces around her. Senator Taa remained silent, his protest now useless. "The attack on my life has made it there are war-mongering bodies out there unwilling for our alliance." With the note of finality echoing in her voice, a whisper of cloth sounded behind Galadriel as Haldir moved towards the control panel, ready to recall the pod back to its docking bay.

"Just a moment, Senator Galadriel," Vice Chancellor interrupted, halting Haldir's hand over the control panel. Haldir's eyes caught Galadriel's in a query but she shook her head ever so slightly. Haldir nodded and left the panel, returning to his original position behind her.

"Yes, Vice Chancellor," Galadriel said pleasantly. "What is it?"

"The attempt on your life, Senator, calls for a grievous concern to your security," He said. Galadriel regarded him with some disgust, even though she kept her face pleasantly impassive. This humanoid was well-known for wiggling his way into matters that did not concern him, and twisting them to his own devices. Still, since he was on a powerful seat, many tried to steer clear of him… and let him have his way. "We will bring the Senate Security Committee to discuss your protection and investigation."

Galadriel raised her head and kept it high. Her lips slightly pressed in a line.

"I believe I will not meet the committee." Galadriel's words reverberated through the chamber. "I have no confidence in the security the Senate provides to their senators given the welcome I have been given."

The silence that met her curt words was so loud she could hear it ringing in her ears. She did not flinch or any way show a weakness. In that moment, Galadriel felt powerful at the sight of stunned dignitaries from around the galaxy. She raised her eyes to meet that of Chancellor Palpatine. He too looked stunned and… vengeful? She did not know how to describe the latter emotion that passed his face ever so briefly. Needless to say, she knew Palpatine was a very dangerous man.

Haldir reached out a hand over the control panel and quickly summoned the pod back to the dock. Galadriel did not wait for them to recover their silence. Clutching her long sleeve in one hand, she whirled around and stalked out the chamber without waiting to be dismissed.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Now, what are Galadriel and Organa concocting?

Feel free to ask anything causing confusion. :)

A lot of reviewers have been asking since the start of this story; will I take this all the way to the Third Age? The answer is, it all depends on your response. :) I have planned this up to the end of the Third Age. If you are interested, then who am I to argue? :)

 **Help List:**

-Initiates: A rank lower than that of Padawans. These are Force-sensitive children, too dangerous to be left on their own, taught before becoming Padawans.

-Crystals: These have varying uses. Some are used for harnessing the Force, others are used as a main constituent for lightsabers and still others are used for healing.

-Twi'leks: A famous species throughout the Star Wars plotline. Their planet is a desert and a harsh land to live in. Their females, known for their beauty and elegance, were often the target of slavery. The politicians hailing from this planet play a large role in the Star Wars politics.

 **Replies to Anon:**

(Thanks to all guest reviews who did not sign their names. It is very hard to tell who is who without a specific name. ;)

JJ: No, that's alright. Feel free to ask. :) Celebrimbor is related to Gil-Galad depending on Gil-Galad's parentage. I prefer him to be the son of Fingon. Fingon and Celebrimbor's father Curufin were cousins. Gil-Galad resides on the planet Rivendell. As noted in the previous chapter, Thranduil saw the planets were names poorly, since the explorers named the planets on the first place they landed on. Yes, he is the High King of Elves. I will be following both timelines; that of Star Wars and of LOTR. Hope this helps. :)

Sky: Why thank you! I hope you continue to enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing this!

ATP: Then let us agree to disagree. I am not here for a debate. It is open for you to interpret. I am sure there are other stories more to your liking.


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

Thanks to Certh, horseyyay, Mirkwood warrior, multiple guest reviewers, WoodElfJedi, Jesus' girl 4ever, SmileyXs Ice-cream Sprinkles, Silver Ink Pen for their reviews.

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

The cold-aired, red-carpeted winding corridors were silent and mostly devoid of life. Those she met on the way had apparently seen her exchange with the Senate; they looked at her differently than before, full of stunned awe and respect. She paid them no attention besides a brief nod when greeted and made to her rooms as quickly as possible.

Once alone, the meeting's tensions caught up with her and she sat down on a couch with a heavy sigh and sank her head in her hands. It was tiring, to say the least. By nature, she never minded politics. She had her own ambitions and her natural sense of leadership was the reason Amdír encouraged her to take part in such matters. Haldir took his customary position behind her, standing with his back at the wall between two windows reaching from the ceiling to the floor. She raised her head till her fingers brushed the lower half of her face and watched the flitting shadows over the sunlit ground. The shadows belonged to the bustling traffic outside her window. She closed her eyes briefly. When she was appointed to act as the representative for the entire system, she did not think how deeply this would affect her. Instead, she felt as if the weight of the world rested upon her shoulders.

She heard a brief knock.

"Enter." Galadriel said. She sat back until her posture was relaxed but stiff. The aide attending her was temporary, selected by Palpatine, and no doubt reporting to him all they see. She must maintain her composure. A young woman entered the door, dressed in colours of white and gold complimenting Galadriel's own dress.

"Senator Organa to see you, my lady," the servant said.

"Send him in." Not once did her voice quiver today in any form of emotion. She was pleased. The grief of her staff's deaths was still too near. She already lost one more in the hospital.  
For Galadriel to maintain herself in such a difficult situation was a comfort. The servant nodded and disappeared. Soon Organa walked in with his male attendants.

"Leave us," Organa said to his aide. Galadriel gestured her own aide to do the same. Haldir was the last to leave. Once the door closed behind him, the two politicians relaxed slightly. Their eyes met and both burst out laughing.

"Well done," Senator Organa praised her, sitting down beside her. "I am impressed."

"I hope I did not come out too strong." Galadriel said, rising from her seat gracefully. She brought him a full glass before sitting down with her own.

"My lady, you were a perfect image of an affronted dignitary." Organa said before taking a small sip. He gave a shining grin. "It was a pleasure to witness."

"Their expressions were a pleasure to witness." Galadriel returned. Organa laughed and agreed.

"You went according to plan." Organa said. "You played with them just enough to keep them happy. With a little more luck, we may turn the tables in our favour."

"Still," Galadriel said. She swept up to her height in one graceful move and strode up to a nearby stand. She filled two transparent glasses and gave one to Organa, who accepted it gratefully. "I am worried this act of defiance will not sit well with everyone." She sat down and traced her thumb over the rim of her glass, collecting the cold moisture there. "I need allies, Organa. I do not wish to turn a potential ally against myself because they believed someone who did not follow the ways of the Senate is worthy to do business with."

"There are two types of people in politics, my lady," Organa said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. She looked into his eyes to find that same mixture of warmth and honesty. "We have puppets and we have leaders. Trust me, there are many politicians here who are puppets, and they follow all the rules set by the Republic. But if you are to excel for the better of your planet or system, and for the Republic, then it means going against the rules from time to time." He sat back comfortably and raised his glass. Before he took a sip, his eyebrows lifted and he gestured with his glass towards her. "You have shown your strengths, my lady. In the Senate, you embody your system. Your personality reflects the place you come from. You also become a formidable opponent… or an ally, if one is wise." Galadriel's lips quirked briefly upward at that. "The leaders among the pool of politicians will remember you, and that is what you need."

Galadriel let Organa's words sink in. Then she sat back and placed her elbow on the armrest. She covered her hand over her eyes briefly, her full glass in the other hand.

"I never expected politics to be this way," Galadriel said after a moment. She lifted her head and met Organa's patient gaze as he silently gestured her to continue. "I have made decisions for my people before. I have taken steps many would not have taken, but here it is more complicated. I am unfamiliar to these tactics." Organa's look changed to one of understanding.

"You needn't worry." Organa said. "The friends I have introduced you to among the politicians are ones I trust myself. And you give yourself little credit. The only thing you need is guidance. You manage quite well on your own."

"Thank you," Galadriel said in gratitude. "For all your help. I am not sure I would have done this much without you." Organa inclined his head and accepted the compliment graciously. Then Organa changed the subject.

"Have you received word about your investigation?" He queried.

"Well, yes," Galadriel replied. "They have told me the investigation is led by a Jedi and she is rumoured to be an Elf."

"Rumoured?" Organa repeated, noting Galadriel's choice of words. "You tell me that you have not met her?" Galadriel shook her head.

"No. I have been busy myself but as far as I know she did not ask for me." Galadriel explained.

"Jedi Investigators are known to stick strictly to their business." Organa said. He finished his drink and set it on the table between them. Galadriel looked down at her own drink before deciding she would not have it and surrendered it on the table. Then she frowned and looked up.

"As far as I recall she was not a Jedi Investigator." Galadriel said. But Organa frowned.

"Jedi Investigators are the only ones who investigate crimes." The man murmured. Then he raised his voice. "What was she called?"

"I don't know." Galadriel felt a little foolish for not remembering. She was so burdened with things, from the event of her assassination to the recent meeting with the Senate, that she did not give the matter much attention. "She was called a Jedi Sh-Shade, I believe. Or something similar."

"A Jedi Shadow?" Organa guessed. Galadriel nodded, remembering Organa knew more about the Jedi and their ranks than herself.

"Yes, that was what the Jedi Sentinels said." At her answer and much to Galadriel's surprise, Organa frowned. She learned some time before about Organa, while an amiable man, could easily be read like a book. If he frowned, it meant something was wrong. "What is it?"

But Organa shook his head to sooth her before he spoke. "Nothing. Only that… as far as I can remember, Jedi Shadows do not deal with mere investigations."

"And then what is their purpose?"

"Something darker, I believe." Organa said. "They deal with artefacts that are related to the dark side of the Force."

"So you are saying that the assassination attempt occurred by a Sith wanting to kill me?" Galadriel asked incredulously. She gave a baffled laugh. "That is very far-fetched."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Organa warned. "Remember Queen Amidala of Planet Naboo. The attack on her planet and the subsequent war brought out a Sith Lord from hiding. His name was Darth Maul and he was killed by Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was then an apprentice. His own Jedi Master died in battle. To this day, the Jedi Order do not know who perished; the Sith or his apprentice."

Galadriel shook her head.

"Folk tales!" She scoffed, but Organa remained grave.

"It is as true as you and I sitting here, my lady. The Jedi believe it, and I know they do not believe in superstitions and generations-old myths."

Galadriel wanted to negate his words further, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she could not force out her words. She was not afraid. Galadriel was rarely ever afraid for her own life. She was too stubborn, the blood she shared with the very kin who killed their own kind too thick. Galadriel would sooner pick up a weapon and fight back rather than sit and accept the offer to become a target.

No, the reason why she fell silent was because she could not reject the presence of Sith any sooner than she can reject her own power.

It coursed within her in the same way blood was life to a being. It was natural to her. The men in Arda system called it 'magic'. Such a primitive term. The Elves did not give it any name, because it was simply a part of them. For Galadriel, the power came easily. She could hear the minds of everyone about her if she chose, among other things. It had been many years since she last used it, but it was there, pulsing deep within her. She dabbled in it from an early age but learned its more complex arts from Melian, the Maia who became wife to King Thingol. For a moment, she yearned to pull on the reserves of her power but resisted. The Republic was not yet aware of the Elves' power, nor the depth of Arda's culture, and none tried to enlighten them.

No, it wasn't the time.

She returned to her senses and became aware of Organa watching her intently. His eyes were slightly narrowed and she remembered the man was observant and cautious in spite of his friendly attitude. She gave him a large, sweet smile and tried to distract him.

"You are wise for your years, Senator Organa." Galadriel said softly. She kept her voice pleasant and tilted her head slightly. Her hands pressed down on the part of white dress covering her thighs, feeling the round bumps of the gems decorating it. "I forget how old you really are."

"Oh, some believe I am ancient, I am sure." Organa said. He was not fully distracted but his mind was certainly off her queer silence. Galadriel clicked her tongue.

"Well, if you are ancient, then I am a myth." Galadriel said, eyes twinkling merrily. Organa burst out laughing.

"I forgot the length of years you have lived, my lady."

"Please do not mention it. I try not to remember."

"I apologize profusely, my lady."

"And you certainly have admirable qualities."

Organa laughed merrily. "I was very different in my youth. Marriage settled me." Galadriel gave a soft burst of laughter.

"Hm, married life suits you well then."

There was a tender smile on Organa's face.

"It does indeed." Organa said. He then apologized and explained to her he would have stayed, but was needed elsewhere soon. Then he bid her farewell.

When Organa left, Galadriel was still smiling. Organa was a young man, a politician but with a good heart. He married the queen of his planet and as rumours have it he is desperately in love with her as she is with him. The kind of person he is, it is very likely the rumours are true. She heard the sound of the door opening and closing, and looked up to see Haldir enter.

"Chancellor Palpatine's message arrived." Haldir said. "He wishes to speak to you in his office."

Galadriel's lips twitched.

"And you are playing fetch?" She teased him lightly. Haldir harrumphed as an answering laugh, a smile on his face. She stood up and tugged on her sleeves, straightening the creases. "Let us go then."

* * *

Thranduil's head was pounding.

How long they stayed discussing, Thranduil did not know. He did notice the sun reaching its zenith and finally waning to nearly an hour before twilight. They broke the meeting thrice for refreshments and other duties. This was the fourth.

He was given a room with only necessary furnishing; a single bed, a serviceable chest at the foot of the bed, a circular seat for meditation. He refreshed himself and ate light meal. Then he lay outstretched on his back, the soft but firm feel of the bed comforting. He laced his fingers over his chest.

"I don't belong here," Thranduil murmured. He stared up at the ceiling, noting absently the smooth flawless paint. While he felt at home in the Order itself, the temple had lost its appeal to him a year after he was knighted.

The other Jedi treated him differently, with varying degrees of hostility. He bore it well, even managed to stay patient when it ran thin. He was not alone. Others from the Arda system felt the same and he witnessed them withdraw from their comrades. They were only a small group from the system. Thranduil believed they mounted up to almost thirty, possibly forty, but not more. Making friends with those who hailed from Arda system like him was not possible; they were too different. But the feeling of isolation in a group you were meant to belong and rely on was too heavy. When the year turned, Thranduil finally decided he could not bear it any longer and sought Yoda's presence. There, he unloaded his entire burden, explained everything that happened and requested to return home. Yoda granted his request.

He was not averse to Yoda's offer to take a Padawan or teach the Initiates as he led him to believe. When Thranduil took the vows of Knighthood, he assumed he would bide them. But steadily, he felt the yearning of a family to call his own. Jedi were not sworn to celibacy, but Thranduil balked at the idea. Better to be married or not at all. The idea of dalliances disgusted him. To work with younglings, like Yoda suggested, was an offer Thranduil dreamed of. But his heart was too gentle, too soft towards children. He would most likely rule with his heart and not his head.

Then his thoughts wandered to their long meeting. Thranduil inhaled, held his breath and exhaled. It didn't hold much importance; though he had the feeling both Yoda and Mace did not touch the most important events. He would wait for them to address them this time when they met, but if they wouldn't, he'd insist.

Inhaling deeply till his chest, Thranduil pressed both his hands on his face and exhaled. With renewed determination, he sat up, swung his legs off the side of the bed and tugged on his boots. He glanced at the mirror and chuckled to himself. Unlike the traditional braids on either side of his head customary to many of his kind, Thranduil braided all of his hair into small long braids. It was a bold move, but it complimented his features. Grinning, he wondered what Galadriel would say. Knowing her, she would tease him mercilessly. His father would shake his head; Celeborn would insist they were not related.

He left the room and made his way through the corridors until he reached his destination. Yoda had chosen a meeting room instead of the more formal council chamber. The room was built in the form of a hexagonal and a vaulted ceiling. With the evening approaching, the room was thrown in the colour of dusky orange. Rich red carpet was spread in the middle, beneath the long polished table and chairs. Already Yoda and Mace were seated, waiting for him.

Mace opened his mouth.

"I am on time." Thranduil said before Mace could speak. The dark-skinned Jedi closed his mouth and raised one brow in a silent way to accept his challenge.

"That's the first since you reached here." Mace said dryly. Thranduil realized he walked into a trap and had no response ready. He narrowed his eyes at Mace but decided the other Jedi won this round. He sat down without answering and ignored the man's smirk.

"Spoke to you, we have on many topics." Yoda said.

"And none of them were related to the ones that are my main concern." Thranduil said. Mace's smirk disappeared and he opened his mouth to chide Thranduil but Yoda cast him a warning look. Thranduil continued. "We must discuss the matters I mentioned to you earlier, along with the recent events concerning Galadriel's life."

"Speak, Thranduil. Listen, we will and offer aid where we can." Yoda said.

Thranduil's brow furrowed.

"Over the last three months, we have lost twenty Ellyth to slavery," Thranduil said. Slavery, for females, worked in a way that made Thranduil's blood run cold. They almost never found kind masters, and their purpose only led to more sorrow. He himself pursued the girls' captors, but lost them on a planet when they disappeared without a trace. It was an event that weighed heavily on Thranduil's heart. But as vast the galaxy was, there was no way he could find them. They were most likely scattered over the planets, alive… or otherwise. "I saved one such group but still at a heavy cost." Thranduil leaned forward. "I need more Jedi with me. I cannot protect the system myself."

"Many of the Jedi are already positioned throughout the galaxy," Mace said. Thranduil's eyes shifted to him.

"We have over ten thousand Jedi who have been Knighted. You cannot tell me you cannot spare a few." Thranduil said irritably. Mace raised a hand, palm outward, in a gesture of peace.

"I am not saying that," Mace soothed him. "I am merely stating that we will have to reassign a few Jedi to make some available for your system. Believe me, contrary to the Senate, we do not wish to lose Arda system as our allies." And Thranduil did believe him. For all his misgivings towards the dark-skinned man, Thranduil knew Mace had a good heart and an honest persona. He was not the kind to be deceitful. Besides, Thranduil enjoyed their little squabbles, even if he wouldn't admit them aloud.

A brief silence fell as each Jedi dwelled in his own circle of thoughts. When Thranduil finally stirred, he became aware of Yoda's thoughtful expression directed towards him. But the Grandmaster made no effort to speak and if Thranduil would ask, he knew he would not get an answer until Yoda was ready to give one. So he asked a question that was weighing his mind ever since he set foot in Coruscant.

"What of Senator Galadriel? Has she been given protection? Is her assassination attempt investigated?"

"There are no further attempts on the Senator's life," Mace said.

"It has only been more than a day," Thranduil retorted.

"She has been given the protection of six Jedi Sentinels. And yes, her assassination attempt is investigated."

"Six?" Thranduil echoed. "That is an extravagant number."

"Contrary to what the people of Arda system believe, this conference is very important to the Republic."

"I understand," Thranduil said after a brief pause. Here on this subject, neither of them was interested in playful banter. Yoda watched them carefully, his long nails scraping soundlessly over the surface of the table.

"A mission I will have, soon," Yoda said. He hopped off the chair and ambled up to the window. The sky was turning rapidly from blue to varying shades of sunset outside. Yoda bent over his cane, his eyes peering at the two younger Jedi sitting about the table. "Need both of you, for it, I will."

A stunned silence followed. Mace was the one to gain control of his tongue first.

"You cannot be serious, Master Yoda," Mace said.

"Me and him?" Thranduil questioned incredulously. "Master Yoda, that is highly unlikely."

Mace seemed emboldened by his words.

"There is no way we can work together," Mace agreed. Yoda only narrowed his large eyes at the pair of them.

"See it you do not. Capable of great things, both of you are." The Grandmaster paused and added dryly, "If you work together, that is."

"And there is the core of our problem," Mace murmured, loud enough for all of them to hear. Thranduil smirked. He heard Mace had a humour in spite of his seriousness.

"And at last, there is something to agree on." Thranduil said, raising his eyes to the heavens at the unforeseen miracle. The humour made Mace's smile grow wider. He looked younger, much more open. "Now, what about investigation of Senator Galadriel's attempted assassination?"

"A Jedi of your own kind is leading the operation. We believe Senator would trust her own kind more."

Thranduil frowned. He heard of no Elf choosing the field of Jedi Investigator. The life of an Investigator simply did not suit that of an Elf. Most chose the more adventurous life of a Jedi Guardian or the content life of a Jedi Instructor.

"I didn't know an Elf had become an Investigator."

Mace glanced at Yoda and looked back at Thranduil.

"She is a Jedi Shadow," Mace answered.

At the very mention of 'shadow', Thranduil felt suspicion rise in him like a vine, clutching him. It did not stem from experience, but seeped from the fear and mystery surrounding this particular branch of the Jedi Order.

The name was aptly given. They were the shadow of the Jedi Order, walking the fine line between the light and the dark side. They were exposed to the dark side of the Force more than anyone other Jedi. They were silent, lethal and cautious of everyone and everything. Many Jedi revered them, others feared them. The Shadows were so finely attuned to the Force that a single tendril of the dark side in an object or a being pushed them to paranoia-like emotion.

They were handpicked and held in prestigious ranks. Not everyone survives the training to become a Shadow. It was gruelling, life-threatening and many trainees lost themselves to the dark side. When that happened, there was only one way to stop them; the other Shadows killed them.

But for all the mystery and suspense around them, the Shadows were a necessary lot. Their presence was reason of the destruction of Sith artefacts, temples and anyone who dared to take the path of the Sith.

And one thing was certain; never trust a Jedi Shadow.

But for the moment, Thranduil returned his attention to main function of a Shadow.

"No Jedi Shadow investigates a crime unless it is connected to the dark side of the Force." Thranduil said. He narrowed his eyes at them and frowned. "What really happened during the attempt on Galadriel's life?"

"We have not been informed with everything, and Shadows always give details at the end." Mace said. Thranduil could not deny what he said was true.

"Meet her later, you will." Yoda said. "Occupied at the moment, she is."

"Will the Senate accept Arda system and offer it the same privileges as the rest of the system?" Thranduil asked. He was not one to play the games of politics, but Yoda and Mace, having lived longer in Coruscant with connection to the Senate, would know more.

"At the moment, everything is uncertain." Mace said. "The Senate makes its own mind, at its own counsel and its own pace. We can only do our duty as Jedi and leave the Senate to make their choice."

The words gave Thranduil no comfort but Mace wasn't the comforting type. So Thranduil accepted the bitter words even if they were hard to swallow.

Later, he was dismissed and Thranduil went straight towards his room. He wished for some solitude and strode quickly.

He was already at his door when he felt a solid cuff at the back of his head. Thranduil's head jerked forward from the blow. Snarling unintentionally, Thranduil turned around but stopped short at the sight of a handsomely grinning face, framed by bright golden hair.

"You have the audacity to show your face here and not tell me." Glorfindel teased. "You wound me."

Thranduil's angry words died in his throat and he laughed instead. Pulling Glorfindel into a tight embrace, Thranduil thumped his back heartedly. Glorfindel did the same, just as earnest. Thranduil pulled back, his head still smarting by Glorfindel's blow.

"Your hand is still as heavy as ever." Thranduil told him.

"You are as fragile as ever." Glorfindel retorted.

Thranduil studied Glorfindel carefully. He was dressed in light brown inner robes with dark brown outer robe. His dark brown embroidered sash with a light brown background around his waist was secured with a belt. His bright gold hair was pulled into a single ponytail. With the grin in place, Glorfindel was the same as ever, except perhaps something deep in his eyes changed. Thranduil could not decide what it was.

"Done staring?" Glorfindel asked with a raised brow. Thranduil only grinned.

"For now." Thranduil said.

"I see. I knew I had grown more handsome."

"Clearly you have not lost your vanity." Thranduil said. He continued to look at Glorfindel. "You seem different."

"Oh?" Glorfindel asked. There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes, mixed with the same something he noticed before. "Perhaps if you contacted me frequently, I would not seem so different." Thranduil laughed as Glorfindel continued, "Come. I have just been freed from teaching a class and I am famished."

They raided the kitchens and chose a small dining area which was empty. Jedi of all ranks usually dined in the larger dining areas built in the form of halls rather than these smaller rooms. They exchanged bits of information and doings between bites.

"Have you met Galadriel?" Thranduil questioned. Glorfindel patted his lips with a handkerchief and shook his head.

"No, much to my regret. The Initiates will be chosen by masters soon. I must prepare them beforehand. I barely have time these days."

Glorfindel was knighted before Thranduil. As soon as the Elf became a Jedi Knight, he chose the path of a Jedi Instructor. To Glorfindel, teaching came easily to him. He was patient, but disciplined and refused to see nonsense among his students. His sternness was mixed with just the right amount of softness and leniency. Still, Thranduil never expected the Elf to teach Force-sensitive students, who were just children. Glorfindel always struck him as the kind to teach older students. Thranduil said as much.

"I didn't expect to teach children either," Glorfindel answered, picking nearby fruit and using a knife to shave off its outer coat. He cut the firm pulp into halves, juice dribbling down on the plate and offered one half to Thranduil, who accepted it. "Yoda is trying to convince me to accept a Padawan now. But I want to have some more expertise in dealing with students before settling with one Padawan."

"I don't think you need expertise. You have the talent to make any nervous student comfortable with you." Thranduil cut his half of the fruit into smaller pieces. Glorfindel did not bother. He took bites of his own half of the fruit, swallowing before speaking again.

"So do you," Glorfindel returned. "And here you are, a Jedi Guardian who prefers to be called a Jedi Knight instead. You need to start getting comfortable with titles."

"I think my gesture towards younglings belongs more to a parent than a teacher," Thranduil said. "And I am fine the way I am."

Glorfindel only shook his head, wiping the juice off his fingers on his handkerchief. Thranduil narrowed his eyes at his friend, last pieces of his fruit forgotten.

"You know why I left." Thranduil said. "I had enough of some Jedi here belonging to certain species, staring at us as if we are some strange creatures belonging to a passing gypsy caravan or circus."

"Things have gotten better," Glorfindel soothed. "I expect we were the first group of people to walk into their temple and they simply did not know what to do with us." Thranduil snorted in disbelief. Glorfindel was old, very old in fact, when he entered the Jedi Order. But his strength in the Force was strong and the Jedi Council always made some exceptions. Glorfindel was among them. Thranduil returned to his fruit and studied the broad-shouldered, powerful build of his friend.

"You expect me to believe they were intimidated by us?" Thranduil said once he finished the last of his fruit. Glorfindel assumed a serious expression.

"Of course," Glorfindel said. He stilled, frowned briefly and chuckled softly. Thranduil threw him a confused look before becoming aware of someone loitering at the open doorway. His white teeth flashing in a grin, Glorfindel winked and raised his voice.

"Very much like the youngling hiding by the doorway."

Thranduil tilted his body to a side to look behind Glorfindel. Two large eyes peeked from the shadow of the doorway. Glorfindel turned on his bench and beckoned kindly at the child.

"Come in, child."

When the youngling stepped into full light, Thranduil saw it was a Dwarf-child. He was smaller than other children, with light brown hair and a stout build.

"He is nearly twenty years old." Glorfindel said, placing his arm around the child's shoulders and pulling him close. "Farin, son of Gamil," Glorfindel introduced the Initiate. "Farin, this is my friend, Thranduil Oropherion, a Jedi who is looking after Arda system."

"Hello there, young one." Thranduil said, leaning forward to look at the Dwarf-child over the table. Farin's thick hair was cut short, just below his ears with only one braid hanging behind his right ear.

"He is still learning. He only speaks the language of his own people."

Thranduil nodded wordlessly and watched Glorfindel bent his head and spoke softly to the Dwarf-child. Dwarven language was one of the Dwarves' closely guarded secrets, along with their real names which they did not even write on their tombs. Glorfindel's personality was soothing and comforting. Farin answered Glorfindel. The Dwarf-child bowed quickly towards Thranduil and turned for the door.

Glorfindel watched Farin scuttle way. Chuckling, Glorfindel turned around in his seat and faced Thranduil, his eyes meeting his.

Suddenly, Thranduil's smile faded. He rose from his seat, and with one swipe of his hand, pushed the table between them to the side. Glorfindel instinctively leaned back in surprise. Thranduil grabbed Glorfindel by his collar and forced him to stand.

"Look at me." Thranduil ordered. The muscle in Glorfindel's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth but Glorfindel looked up and met his eyes squarely. Thranduil searched his eyes earnestly, let go of his collar and set back in his chair, legs too weak to hold him up. "You bonded." Thranduil said faintly.

"Thranduil-"

"You are married." Thranduil hissed. Reaching up, he pulled Glorfindel back into his seat and straightened the table to give some semblance of normal conversation. Glorfindel leaned and tried to grab Thranduil's wrist but Thranduil shook it away. "Glorfindel, what in the blazes were you thinking?"

"I love her." Glorfindel said quietly. Thranduil had to strain to hear his voice. "I have spent too long alone."

Thranduil's eyes flitted up to the corner of the ceiling where a security camera was installed. Looking at Glorfindel, he lowered his voice to a bare whisper and shifted to Sindarin.

"If the Jedi Council finds out, you will be stripped of your title and turned an outcast!"

"Will you tell them?" Glorfindel asked with his voice just as soft as Thranduil's. The Sinda glared at the married Jedi but relented.

"No," Thranduil responded finally. "If they hear of it, it will never be from me."

"Thank you."

"Do not thank me yet." Thranduil said sharply. "Glorfindel, if someone finds out-"

"They won't." Glorfindel broke him off curtly. Thranduil stifled a sigh of frustration. It was clear Glorfindel was not willing to entertain the possibility.

"Every Elf, Jedi or otherwise, will know you are bonded just by looking at you," Thranduil said. "The only reason it took me this long was because I didn't even consider the option."

"No Elf would betray his own kind," Glorfindel said, spreading his hands wide. Thranduil scoffed him.

"Our history clearly explains otherwise. And the Jedi are capable of falling to the dark side, regardless of their race."

Glorfindel clenched his teeth until the muscle of his lower jaw jumped out. Thranduil studied him and then shook his head. The Vanya was stubborn. But there was little, nothing at all, really, that could be done. Glorfindel was bonded and it cannot be reversed. Thranduil rubbed his hand over his face wearily.

"Who else knows?"

"Erestor knows." Glorfindel answered, looking away from Thranduil. "He looks after her for me."

Thranduil felt as if he was tired than ever before with the burden of this heavy secret.

"This will amount to nothing," Thranduil said finally. Glorfindel gave a small hesitant smile.

"Thank you," Glorfindel said. "You are a good friend."

"I can't say the same for you." Thranduil answered tiredly. Glorfindel snorted in amusement. "I hope you know what you are doing."

"One would do strange things for love." Glorfindel said quietly. Thranduil fought the intense urge to roll his eyes.

"Ah. Something Celeborn keeps insisting." Thranduil muttered under his breath.

Glorfindel's smile became knowing.

"You can only understand it once you wed… if you wed."

Thranduil did not know what to say as an answer, so he kept his silence. When he finally spoke, he started Glorfindel out of his own reverie.

"You enjoy it here." Thranduil stated. He left Sindarin this time. Glorfindel's smile never disappeared since Thranduil declared he would not betray him. This time it widened.

"I do. I do indeed."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

What do you think?

 **Replies to Anon:**

Thanks to guest reviewers for their reviews!

Guest (1): Oh dear, I haven't updated the Hunt in a long while, haven't I? I will remedy that. :) Thank you for your review! That is so sweet!

Guest (2): It all depends on the number of reviews I get. :)


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

Thanks to the reviewers Certh, horseyyay, Raide-K, The Enchanted Stream, Talking Teapot, Just A Reviewer, Knights-of-Ni, Lilyssy, Mirkwood Warrior, Traveller of Many Worlds, Sky, Someone, ATP, Pip the Dark Lord of All, Jesus' girl 4ever, Silver Ink Pen, SmileyXs Ice-cream Sprinkles and numerous guest reviewers for their kind words.

Special thanks goes to:

-Raider-K for her beta-ing.

-Lauderdale and Certh for their characterisation.

-WoodElfJedi and Knights-of-Ni for their expertise in Star Wars.

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

It was just before noon when Thranduil called on her.

She was reclining on the couch at the time, conversing with Haldir who gladly told her about his daughter when she asked. When her temporary aide appeared, Haldir excused himself and went to greet Thranduil. Galadriel remained on the couch, her fingers lazily tracing the embroidery on the corners of her cushion. She heard the door surge open, and then muffled greetings and laughter, followed by loud thumps like they were heartily slapping each other on the back. Galadriel rolled her eyes. Ellyn were so typical.

When the voices edged closer, Galadriel swung her long legs over the edge of the couch and rose to her full height. She turned and waited for the open door. Thranduil appeared first, with his customary green Jedi robes. Haldir trailed behind, dressed in his usual grey formal attire.

"Leave us," Galadriel commanded Haldir first. The Elf stopped midstride, nodded and smoothly turned on his heel. Her aide hurried after him and in a few seconds, Galadriel and Thranduil were alone.

Thranduil walked up to her, his arms opened wide to embrace her. Galadriel smiled at him. Then her smile froze, and she situated her hand right at Thranduil's face, palm outward. Thranduil stopped quickly before his face smacked right into Galadriel's hand.

"What is that?" Galadriel gestured with her free hand at Thranduil's numerous braids starting from his hairline and continued back into a ponytail. The way the braids swung reminded her about numerous head protrusions of various humanoids.

Thranduil still stood there, with his arms comically spread wide. He raised his dark brows at her.

"I would like a hug," Thranduil remarked mildly. Galadriel placed her hands over her hips and gave Thranduil a withering look.

"Unravel your hair at once," Galadriel ordered. Thranduil stared at her, baffled, before recovering. He chortled, shook his head and tried to embrace her. But Galadriel was not dissuaded. "Unravel you hair immediately, otherwise I will speak to your father about your bold, wild acts." Galadriel added innocently, "And I might exaggerate some parts."

It took Thranduil a minute to comprehend her threat. He scowled and folded his arms and gave her his own withering look, but Galadriel smiled sweetly. She meant her threat, and Thranduil knew it. Oropher, while indulgent to his son's antics, was a strict father and very disciplined. Thranduil may be an adult, but one word from his father could set Thranduil straight. No other possessed that kind of control over Thranduil. She quickly commanded him to sit, gesturing at the long dining table set beside a row of windows with a balcony in the middle. Thranduil complied after passing her a long-suffering look. Galadriel retrieved a hairbrush from her room and when she returned, she found Thranduil lounging on a chair, his long muscled legs propped up by his feet on the table. A full glass glittered in the sunlight in his right hand.

"I see you wasted no time in making yourself comfortable." Galadriel observed in dry tones. Thranduil looked at her innocently.

"It'd be a shame for such a fine collection to go untested." Galadriel laughed at Thranduil's words. She went behind Thranduil's seat and hit his shoulder with her brush.

"Sit up, ninny."

Her fingers quickly found Thranduil's braids and began to unravel his hair from their restraints. Thranduil's head fell back, resting on the edge of the back of his seat. Galadriel glanced at his face. His eyes were closed. Thranduil's features were relaxed and calm. Galadriel pulled the hairbrush through Thranduil's hair, making sure it didn't tangle. Soon, the braids were free and the brush ran smoothly through his locks. A soothing silence fell over them. Galadriel spoke softly, feeling afraid that anything louder would break the peace.

"Promise me you won't wear this hairstyle again."

Thranduil's lips curled upwards.

"I thought it looked good."

"It made you look harsh and stern," Galadriel said. She set her brush aside and with expert fingers, quickly placed braids on either side of Thranduil's head above the ears and tied the braids behind the back of his head before following it along the length of his hair. "There. You look better now."

Thranduil shifted in his seat until he sat with his back pressed against the back of his seat and ran his fingers over his braids. Feeling them secure, Thranduil looked at Galadriel, impressed.

"Your handiwork is excellent." Thranduil praised her. Galadriel only inclined her head and sat down on a neighbouring chair. Thranduil's smile faded. "How are things in the Senate?"

At the mention of her duties, Galadriel sighed. Thranduil looked at her questionably, and Galadriel narrated everything that happened in the Senate, along with the plans she made with Organa. At the end of it, Thranduil's brow was furrowed in thought. Sunlight played across his face, turning his hair into fiery gold.

"I don't know much of politics," Thranduil said at last. His eyes shifted to meet hers. "But if you think it best, then I trust your judgement." Galadriel couldn't believe her ears.

"You were a prince before a Jedi," Galadriel protested. Thranduil gave a hearty laugh.

"Yes, and with a heart to live in the wild and run with the soldiers rather than sit through meetings and listen to negotiations and petitions." Thranduil continued to chuckle. Galadriel laughed with him. It was true. Thranduil downed half his glass.

"You were always a handful for Oropher."

"Hm, father would insist I still am." Thranduil jerked his chin towards the main door. "How do you find the Jedi Sentinels?"

"Surprisingly, I found the setting perfect," Galadriel answered. She added another compliment, "They are very attentive and cautious. Tell me, how is my investigation going?"

Thranduil shook his head. "I don't know. I have to meet the Shadow within the hour."

"Hm," Galadriel hummed, not really listening. Thranduil cast her sharp look.

"What is it?"

"It's probably nothing," Galadriel said uncertainly but Thranduil shook his head and crossed his arms.

"I know you well enough, Galadriel. What is it?"

Galadriel did not answer immediately. Instead, she gathered her thoughts, and shelved them according to priority. She picked that one recurring thought that nibbled her mind and traced the flowering pattern spanning across the table with her right index finger. At last her thought formed a voice.

"I feel as if I may have come out too strong-headed in our previous conference," Galadriel said, keeping her eyes on the brown coloured pattern. "Chancellor Palpatine wasn't pleased. He seems like a dangerous man to displease."

"Chancellor Palpatine is a good man, or so Obi-Wan told me," Thranduil said. Galadriel looked up and found Thranduil's serious face watching her.

"You haven't met him personally," Galadriel said. "You didn't see what I saw when I refused meeting security committee."

"I am sure you worrying about nothing." Thranduil soothed her, but Galadriel was not appeased.

"In any case, I suppose I will find out soon enough in the conference today."

"You look well-dressed for it. I don't think he will annoy you very much," Thranduil said, obviously trying to make her smile again.

It worked. Galadriel smiled and looked down at her attire. She was dressed in shimmering, flowing white material with long wide sleeves and a pink sash tied about her waist. The neckline was wide, leaving her shoulders bare. Her silver-golden hair flowed freely with restraints across her back. This dress trapped her youthful beauty and femininity, as opposed to her previous dresses that made her look dark and powerful.

Thranduil reached over and trapped the hand that moved over the table surface with his own. His touch was a comforting one.

"I am sure you will be fine," Thranduil said, freeing it and patting the back of her hand before sitting back. He checked the time and sighed reluctantly.

"I must go." Thranduil announced. He rose from his seat. "I can't be late."

Galadriel smiled and stood up as well. Galadriel was taller than most men, and even among her kind, she competed with the heights of males. Thranduil and Galadriel were precisely eye-level.

"You can go then, but you should visit me when Celeborn is there as well. Maybe I could persuade you to visit us back in Arda," Galadriel said. She leaned forward and teasingly cooed, "You hardly visit us anymore." She reached forward and squeezed Thranduil's cheek between her thumb and two fingers. Thranduil gave an irritated sound and pulled away, clasping the offending hand by the wrist.

"I hate you when you are like that," Thranduil told her. Galadriel gave a simpering giggle, knowing precisely how much Thranduil despised air-headed girls. She tried to squeeze Thranduil's other cheek with other hand, but Thranduil grabbed that one too.

"Stop it," Thranduil commanded. Trapped, Galadriel laughed.

"Oh, come on," Galadriel crooned. "Don't be such a bore."

"Behave, you are a mother now. Act like it." Thranduil ordered her, his smile betraying him. "I will visit you. But I can't make any promises."

"Good. You owe me a drinking game, Thranduil."

"You will lose."

"I will win this time."

"I don't think Amroth will like having another vase thrown at him."

"I will win."

"No, you won't."

"You are getting late, Thranduil."

"Don't change the subject. And I will still win." Thranduil said, grinning.

"We shall see." Galadriel said. She knew she was obstinate. Then again, she always tried to win competitions… or at least, tried to reach the mark as best as she could. Before Thranduil formed a droll comment, she waved her hands at him airily. "Now go! I won't have it said the Senator from Arda kept a Jedi from his duties!"

When Thranduil finally left, Galadriel's lingering smile dwindled and she folded her arms and faced the windows, her thoughts worrying her about the coming meeting.

* * *

He arrived in time, but found Yoda and Mace waiting for him at one of the doors leading into the temple. Yoda stood upright, with his form bent over his crooked wooden cane. Mace leaned against one of the dual doors. He only pushed himself straight when he spotted Thranduil.

As Thranduil neared, he saw Mace open his mouth to speak.

"I am on time," Thranduil interrupted before Mace formed words. And then he added quickly, "And it isn't the first."

"I guess improvements can be made," Mace answered. Then the dark-skinned man flashed his white teeth at Thranduil, who only narrowed his eyes in return. Yoda, on the other hand, wasn't interested in entertaining their squabbles for the day.

"Hurry we must," Yoda said. He was already tapping away, the hem of his outer robe trailing on the floor behind him, "Must not keep the Shadow waiting." Thranduil and Mace looked at each other briefly before hurrying after the Grandmaster.

This time at noon was as busy as the temple got. Everywhere he looked, the Jedi milled about. Some lingered in the halls with vaulted ceilings and rich red carpet to speak to old friends. They passed many Jedi of varying ranks, ages and species through the corridors. All of them moved with flowing grace and serenity, immersed in their own tasks.

Yoda walked with a speed that did not match with his advanced age. He looked up just in time to find Glorfindel approach him from the opposite direction, a long train of young Initiates padding after him. Glorfindel's eyes met Thranduil's, and the broad-shouldered Elf passed him a smile. Thranduil returned it. Once Glorfindel passed, Thranduil remembered his secret. His smile faded as the knowledge of Glorfindel's marriage rested on his shoulders like a heavy load. Suddenly, the presence of Yoda and Mace seemed more imposing.

For a moment, Mace's pace faltered until he was shoulder to shoulder to Thranduil. Mace's hazel eyes met that of Thranduil's grey ones.

"Are you alright?" Mace asked, concerned. Thranduil realised his Force was not as stable as it usually was. It trembled slightly, like ripples of unease on a pond. Thranduil schooled his emotions and brought the Force within him carefully under control.

"I am fine," Thranduil said coolly. Mace recoiled briefly, and he felt a pang of guilt. It wasn't his fault. After all, Mace was being genuine. But the damage was done. Mace dipped his head in acceptance, and the pair followed Yoda in terse silence.

Yoda stopped in front of a door and offered for Thranduil to enter the room first. The door whizzed open, and he entered the room. It was smaller than most, with a small round table in the middle surrounded by comfortable chairs. There was sparse furniture otherwise. Then he realised he wasn't alone.

An Elf stood in blue coloured robes. Her hands were clasped behind her with a double ended lightsaber strapped across her back. She turned around completely. Mace strode past Thranduil and introduced the Elf to Thranduil.

"Thranduil, this is Jedi Shadow Celil Elhaeliel. She was called to advise us on this situation."

Thranduil did a quick appraisal of her. Celil was shorter than him, her head barely reaching his shoulder. She lacked an outer robe; her robes were in dark shades of blue with knee-length black boots. Shadows weren't known to wear conventional colours. She was slim, built more for speed rather than brute strength. Her black hair was pulled in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her cheekbones weren't defined and her chin was round. Then his eyes finally met hers, and he nearly jerked back in shock.

She was blind.

In place of coloured irises, her eyes were completely white orbs, with cloudy circles in place of pupils and irises. He stared at them, horrified and fascinated. No Elf was born with such a defect. In fact, Elves were among the few who suffered no such ailments from birth. So her blindness was inflicted upon her.

Thranduil forced himself to find his voice and speak before the silence stretched out uncomfortably.

"Master Celil, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Master Celil, this is Jedi Guardian Thranduil Oropherion," Mace introduced Thranduil.

He felt Celil's scrutinize him the same way he did with her. Odd, since she could not see. He wondered how good she was in assessing him. Instinct told him her deductions would probably be accurate.

"I have heard of you," Celil said. Her voice was confident and feminine. Thranduil waited to hear more, but Celil did not elaborate. Her face gave nothing away, so he didn't know what she heard was good or bad. In fact, she seemed neutral.

"Can you tell us any progression in the investigation?" Thranduil heard Mace say. Celil nodded- an action that seemed alien when her eyes did not close or even move with the motion. She gestured at the golden-coloured box resting over the table that Thranduil did not notice before. It was shaped in a box, and seemed fortified to contain something dangerous. She lifted the lid. Yoda and Mace stood close to look in. Thranduil craned his neck behind them.

Nestled in the folds of blue velvet for safety was a gem made of pure transparent crystal. Celil's fingers nimbly raised the gem to their eye level. Thranduil's briefly wondered how she functioned without the use of her eyes.

"The gem is purely made, and one of the finest we have tested. As for the dark side within the crystal, it is crude. The dark artefact is poorly made."

"Its function, Master Celil?" Yoda questioned.

"It seems to have no purpose, Master Yoda," Celil said.

"May I?" Thranduil asked. Celil smoothly turned around and surrendered the gem into Thranduil's hands. Strange; for someone blind, she moved as if she saw everything.

He turned his attention to the gem in his hand. It was long as his hand, tapered at both end and bulk in the middle. It was cut in numerous angles to catch the light. Thranduil held it up in the light, and looking through, he saw the room clearly, if a bit distorted.

He was about to bring the gem closer to his face, but before he did, a long-fingered pale hand gripped his wrist out of nowhere. It was surprisingly strong and steady for something that seemed so fragile; he followed the hand to the arm until his eyes finally reached Celil's face.

"Be careful," she warned. Her sightless eyes easily met his. "Even a dark artefact unrefined as this can be unpredictable." Thranduil wondered if that was how she lost her sight. He nodded, and then felt foolish for his movement. Celil did not seem to notice. Feeling his silent acceptance, Celil stepped back.

"What are you thinking, Thranduil?" Mace asked.

"Whoever made this has access to some precious gems. This one is clearly synthesized. No natural gem is this pure. And the cuts are fine, made by an expert smith."

Mace raised a brow at Thranduil's statement.

"You seem to know a lot about gems," Mace noted. Thranduil gave him a small smile.

"I am partial to gems, particularly to white or clear ones," Thranduil explained. He waited for a witty remark, but curiously, Mace only nodded.

"A hologram was constructed through numerous security cameras to show the events prior to the blast," Celil said. Her hand dipped into the pouch hanging from her belt and she placed the hologram on the table and switched it on. A blue hologram flickered into view, casting blue light over their faces. Thranduil watched as the blue image of Galadriel's cruiser descended on the landing platform. Galadriel and Haldir were first to descend, her aide and guards following her in rows of two.

Thranduil's eyes fluttered up above the air. A slim, long carrier was flying straight at the cruiser. Thranduil recognized them as the carriers used to transport fuel. It hurtled straight at the cruiser, causing a large explosion. Thranduil's throat tightened as he watched Galadriel and Haldir fall back from the impact.

"The carrier was full of explosives," Celil said when the hologram flickered close. "The driver of the carrier did not survive."

"And who was the driver?" Mace queried.

Celil shifted the hologram and an image of rodian flickered into view. Thranduil narrowed his eyes. Rodians were species with coloured skins, antenna in the shape of saucers, and dark wide eyes that seemed as if the starlit galaxies were trapped within them. They were known to make remarkable thugs and outlaws, most of them partial to violence. Thranduil was so deep in thought that he missed the outlaw's name.

"… He is nothing special. His records show petty thefts and occasional armed assaults in bars and clubs. There is no evidence he was coerced into this. He may have accepted willingly for money. In any case, his type are dime a dozen." Celil fell silent again and Thranduil noted how she spoke only when it was necessary. Her tone was measured and cautious.

"Why would anyone leave a dark artefact when there was no purpose to it?" Thranduil wondered. He looked down at the gem he was holding it in his hands. He faced such an item only once since Knighthood. It was not strong but it was enough to lull him with the rewards of the dark side, even if what it offered didn't appeal him. But this one had no such effect. The Force within the crystal was noticeable but very weak.

"I assume it was left there as a token," Celil said.

Dread pulled in the pit of Thranduil's stomach like molten lead. A warning. A proof. He found it difficult to bear the thought of Galadriel in danger: Galadriel, so full of life, and incredibly dear to him. Thranduil never had any siblings. He was an only child. When Celeborn wedded Galadriel, he warmed to the new bride immediately and her to him. He found a friend in her, someone who shared his sense of humour. Thranduil's teeth clenched. Whoever was behind this would pay dearly.

"And what other leads do we have?" Thranduil asked.

"He was last seen at a club before disappearing and using the carrier later. We can start with the club. It is in the slums," Celil said.

"Then go to the depths of Coruscant, you must. Go with you Master Thranduil shall." Yoda said. Thranduil's annoyed look at the use of titles with his name was lost on Yoda. That was one thing Yoda did not entertain of Thranduil. Then his mind went on the new mission he was newly given.

Some called the depths of Coruscant the slums. Thranduil fondly remembered them as the breeding pits for drug lords, drug addicts, lowlifes and good-for-nothing beings. At time he never understood why the Republic did nothing to remove the lawless from Coruscant. It was a haven for any assassins and their means to kill important persons. Then again, the lawless were often very clever in hiding their tracks and keeping their mischiefs at a low and tolerable profile. If they displeased the Senate too much, Thranduil did not doubt the Republican forces would descend upon the low levels and commit massive purging.

"As you wish," Celil said.

"As you wish," Thranduil echoed in a murmur. He glanced at Celil. At least he won't be alone.

He offered the gem to Celil and opened his mouth. But before he spoke, Celil raised her hand but didn't take the gem. It pulled away Thranduil's hand and hovered in the air, its cuts catching the light in many angles. It finally fell in Celil's palm. He watched the Shadow return it to its safe bed and closed the lid of the reinforced box. It needed no such precautions but the Shadows were always cautious.

As for Thranduil, he felt the person behind the assassination attempt was more dangerous than the crystal resting in its containment.

* * *

The air within the Convocation Chamber was cool against the exposed skin. Her lips parted and she could imagine invisible gust of wind from her mouth but her mind did not function otherwise. Haldir's presence inched closer to her, a pillar she could rely on. But at the moment, Galadriel was annoyed, frustrated, and angry for being treated as a wilting lady incapable of making her own choices.

The Chancellor looked at her expectantly. Galadriel met his eyes. Strange; so many considered the Chancellor an amiable friend and strong ally, but he only reminded her of a wolf in a sheep's cloth. His eyes were cold, searching for an easy prey- and he found one in Galadriel. It gnawed at Galadriel's resolution; it made her frustrated.

"I hope Senator Galadriel accepts this offer." Chancellor Palpatine spoke. The assertive tone in his voice was not lost on Galadriel. He wanted her to accept it, forced her to accept it. It was his way to re-establish control as a Chancellor. Her pod hovered about the Chancellor, her eyes once meeting that of Senator Organa's over the Chancellor's shoulder. Organa was completely still, his face giving nothing away. He gave no indication to help her decide, but then, there was no decision for her to make. She clenched her teeth and tightened her fists hidden beneath her long sleeves. Then she relaxed her jaw and resumed her pleasant expression a split second letter. Not for the first time during the meeting, she cursed the way her wardrobe and loose hair enveloped her with this beautiful, illustrious image.

"I cannot deny the kindness the Chancellor and the Senate bestowed on me," Galadriel said calmly. She tilted her head and relaxed her fists. Her palms hurt from her fingernails digging into the skin. "I will accept your offer of Jedi Protection… of Jedi Guardian Thranduil Oropherion."

Those who didn't know about politics would say that Chancellor favoured her. Thranduil Oropherion was a good choice. He was a Jedi, linked to royalty, her kin, a member of her race, guardian of her system among many others. But she knew he was more or less thrust on her.

Thranduil would hate this more than she did. For as long as she knew him, Thranduil never liked being joined or tied down. He preferred a free life. What was more, playing guard duty would make it difficult for him to serve Arda system and work on her investigation.

No, Thranduil would not like this at all.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Sorry for the delay in the usual Thursday updates. RL commitments came in the way. :)

Enjoying so far?

 **Replies to Anon:**

Thanks to the welcoming reviews left by unnamed guests. :) You guys made me really happy (squealing happy, in fact!).

Sky: Yes, they do. Sad, isn't it? I mean, come on! They need breaks too!

Someone: Why thank you! My first time writing an AU, so I was nervous! :D

Talking Teapot: It's been resolved. :) But thank you so much for caring. It's this sort of reviews that help push us back to writing. The user apologised later on.

Just A Reviewer: Oooooh, how did it go? Did you enjoy it? Either I am a modern sort of a kid, but I never really liked the last three episodes. :P I hope they refresh them sometime. The style of the movies jump drastically from the first three to the last three. Episode III broke my heart into pieces. tsk tsk! So impatient! Everything will be revealed in time. :D Oh! You know, the writing seemed so you, but since the review was unsigned, I didn't want to risk offending anybody. :P Thanks. Good to know. :D


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**

Thanks to the reviewers OlivierMira89, Silver Ink Pen, BrightPath2, EchoMeThis, Celsius Fate, Sky, Talking Teapot, LadyLindariel, Jesus' girl 4ever, WoodElfJedi, horseyyay, Raider-K, Certh, SmileyXs Ice-cream Sprinkles, Mirkwood Warrior, The Enchanted Stream for their reviews!

Special thanks to horseyyay for beta-ing this chapter.

 **Edit** : There were some glitches in the chapter, with lines appearing where they shouldn't. So the chapter was taken down and reuploaded. I apologise for any inconvenience.

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

"Sunsets in Coruscant are always the most beautiful I have ever witnessed," Glorfindel said.

Thranduil smiled and passed a word of agreement.

They sat casually facing each other on the steps of the Provisional Way, their outer robes draping the steps behind them. They sat a little to the right, not wanting to come in anyone's way. A long oval platter lay between them, containing a large loaf of bread and a bowl of steaming broth. The meat in the broth was unlike any Thranduil ever tasted, but when Glorfindel started to explain, Thranduil immediately interrupted and told him he'd rather not know. When Thranduil joined the Order, it opened a new gateway for him where he tasted exotic meats and plants. Some of them were good, some of them he preferred not to speak about, and as for the rest he never tasted them. Thranduil decided the fowls, and deer and pheasants from Mirkwood were the best of them all.

And so they shared the modest but deliciously nutritious meal between themselves. In the midst of the silence, they stole a glance every now and then at the setting sun. The sky turned crimson as if blood was set freely, and it turned the looming skyscrapers into dark, sinister bodies.

Thranduil passed another morsel of fresh bread and hot broth into his mouth before dusting his fingers on the empty platter. He wordlessly gestured at Glorfindel to finish the food and that he was done, in spite of Glorfindel's protests before leaning back until his lower back hit the upper step. He braced himself with his palms on the ground and drank in the breath taking sight of the colour changing sky. With the end of the morning shift, many labourers were returning home. The traffic swelled into a degree just lesser than pure chaos.

"Galadriel asked me to meet her for dinner tonight." Glorfindel said, interrupting his thoughts. Thranduil swallowed and glanced at him. The Vanya's golden head was stained fiery gold from the setting sun. His head was bowed, with only a few morsels of food left.

Thranduil looked at him in mild amusement. Glorfindel was disciplined in all walks of life. He never did things halfway. If he was schooled in the ways of wielding a blade and controlling the Force, he was fully capable of restraining himself on falling upon his food like a hungry wolf. Everything about Glorfindel was refined, cultured. Even his forbidden secret of marriage possessed an aristocratic taste, since he courted the she-Elf before wedding her. The secret still sat uncomfortably in a place deep within Thranduil's mind, even if it was something he was growing accustomed to. He didn't ask Glorfindel who she was. And the less people knew the better.

"Oh," Thranduil said, tearing his eyes away from Glorfindel and fixing them on the scenery laid out in front of him. He watched Jedi Knights hop out of a transporter. Judging from their tired faces and travel-stained robes, they no doubt returned from a long, tedious mission. They murmured a word of greeting, which Thranduil and Glorfindel returned. When they were safely out of earshot, Thranduil continued. "And what secrets do you intend to divulge in?"

Glorfindel looked up but didn't meet his eyes. Instead he stared unseeingly past Thranduil's shoulder. A shadow crossed his face.

"She'd know." Glorfindel murmured. "I know she would, from the first moment she looks at me. And it isn't something I'd hide."

Silence unfolded as Glorfindel wiped the bowl clean with a final piece of bread. Thranduil waited until Glorfindel was finished before speaking.

"You can leave the Order." Thranduil's voice was quiet, barely above a bare whisper. Glorfindel tensed, and his jaw clenched but Thranduil continued relentlessly. "You can surrender your title and live your life peacefully with your wife. You could have a family and none would trouble you. You have developed a name for yourself in our kind to be revered and trusted."

"Thranduil, it's not that simple-"

"It is. You accomplished great feats in your previous life-"

"Quiet," Glorfindel hissed and Thranduil closed his mouth immediately. He wasn't offended by his friend's curt order. The history of Arda system was largely unknown to the rest of the galaxy and the authorities in Arda liked keeping it that way. Some things in their history were... difficult to explain. Glorfindel was one such example.

He was an Elf born, killed and reborn.

Then Glorfindel let out a steadying exhale and the tension in his body escaped. He relaxed.

"I can't." Glorfindel resumed. His tone was calm but slightly strained. "I don't wish to leave behind a good cause solely because I chose to wed someone rather than spending nights of debauchery."

Thranduil hid his smile at the disgust in Glorfindel's voice. For Elves, the thought of such liberties in intimacy was unfounded and looked down upon. And the Jedi weren't exactly... Sworn into celibacy. But Glorfindel wasn't done.

"Also, we are but the first from our system to join Jedi ranks. Some of us should be among the Instructors, so the younglings could see a familiar face." Glorfindel finished. He shifted until he sat like Thranduil, facing the sunset. Time was passing quickly, and hints of dark blue appeared in the horizon. "Who else would guide them if not for us?"

Thranduil only nodded without commitment. He couldn't help but agree though. Glorfindel was right. His sudden feeling of respect towards his friend was dashed when he added thoughtfully, "I might consider the thought of starting a family though."

Thranduil threw Glorfindel a sharp look. The Elf returned it with a mirthful one of his own but Thranduil tried hard to figure out whether he was joking but Glorfindel gave nothing away. At last, Thranduil growled at him deep from his throat.

"You'd strip your title with you antics and strip mine as well," Thranduil warned but Glorfindel fervently shook his head.

"I'd never endanger you with my decisions, my friend. You didn't ask me about her name."

"I don't want to know." Thranduil said flatly. His reaction was so immediate that Glorfindel laughed.

"But enough about me, tell me about yourself," Glorfindel remarked. "I am surprised you didn't know one of our own entered the ranks of the Jedi Shadow." He arched a single golden eyebrow.

"I don't exactly follow the gossip from the temple these days," Thranduil answered. Coruscant Prime, the large glowing white star that served as the sun for Coruscant, nearly disappeared below the horizon. He shifted a little to get comfortable.

"Humph, you never liked gossip, so I guess that's no surprise. She comes from Lórien, from what I recall. I caught her combating in one of the practice rooms long ago. I liked her."

Thranduil shot Glorfindel a disbelieving look and gave a laugh.

"Trust you to judge a person by their swordplay," Thranduil said, shaking his head. "Well, now that you mentioned it, tell me; how is she?"

"Her swordplay is exceptional, better than the standard. She is a bit stiff at the wrist but quickly adapts to her environment. And she leaves her lower left open from time to time. The Shadows chose well, but that shouldn't be a surprise. They always chose the most capable."

"And was she always blind?"

"No, I have seen her before; she wasn't blind then."

"Something must have happened that took her sight away."

"Perhaps, but I believe that it's of no major hindrance to her. Else the council would have her relieved of duty. And from what I have seen since she arrived here, I believe her blindness is nothing short of mild annoyance." Glorfindel said. But Thranduil couldn't help but disagree.

"A disability is always a disability, even if you manage to get around it," Thranduil objected. "She may have worked out a way to function without her sight, but there will be weaknesses that she cannot conquer." At that, understanding dawned Glorfindel's face. He raised both his brows, crease lines forming on his forehead.

"You don't think she is capable of handling missions." Glorfindel concluded. But Thranduil shook his head.

"I haven't seen her fight, and we haven't worked together in the past. It would be unfair of me to give such an opinion so quickly. She was working before with blindness anyway, so the council is confident she is fine. But what I mean is that there always come a time when the enemy exploits a weakness and I am not entirely sure if she can handle that." A fresh breeze blew in their faces, lifting strands of hair. Thranduil closed his eyes and savoured the peaceful moment.

"I understand what you mean. I too would have the same reservations. I guess this mission will give you a better insight." Glorfindel said. Thranduil smiled. This was why he enjoyed talking to Glorfindel. The Elf never minded Thranduil's opinions and criticism on various Jedi matters and was never afraid to agree or even disagree. At times, Glorfindel provided him with a mind-set Thranduil would have never found himself and at other times it was Thranduil who changed Glorfindel's opinion.

"I hope so."

"So I assume you don't have any other problems with your new partner in crime?" Glorfindel asked. He gathered the platter and bowl and set it aside so there was nothing between them. Some stray aerial animals flew over, pecking at the crumbs left on the platter.

"Other than the fact that I am dealing with a Shadow, no," Thranduil answered dryly. Glorfindel frowned.

"What an odd thing to say," Glorfindel said. "Care to elaborate?"

"The Shadows aren't known to be a stable branch of the Order. They walk a grey line, Glorfindel. How are we to know that they will not fall to the dark side?"

"You forget that the Shadows are kept under more strict rules by the council. And they have to be evaluated regularly." Glorfindel pointed out. "It's not easy to join their ranks. And it's not easy to remain in their ranks either."

"They kill their own, Glorfindel, if I remember my history correctly. They kill their own if they find their companions have gone rogue."

This time Glorfindel's frown deepened. He pursed his lips. The last light framed both of them in golden light before disappearing in a matter of seconds.

"But you speak of the old Order. Shadows belonging to that Order bordered on paranoia. They were the ones killing their kind if they suspected even a breath of the dark side."

Thranduil fell silent and blinked a few times. Lights flared up across the Provisional Way, bathing them in white light.

"How is it that you don't know those Shadows belonged to the old Order?" Glorfindel queried. "We learned this in our history lessons when we were Padawans."

"I used to sleep in those lessons," Thranduil admitted. While he was prepared for Glorfindel's amusement, his powerful guffaw threw Thranduil off guard. Glorfindel leaned forward, hands clasping his knees and shoulders shaking in mirth, and laughed freely.

"I never thought you were the kind to doze off in a lesson," Glorfindel said once his laughter subsided. "How did you manage to get away with it?"

Thranduil winced inwardly. While most of the Jedi who dedicated their lives to teaching were patient and orderly, others weren't so much. He knew some of the teachers took strict, though not cruel, measures to keep the students in line. But Thranduil was one of the fortunate ones.

"The teacher was an elderly Jedi, who never noticed his voice put his students to sleep."

Glorfindel chuckled.

"Most of the elders are like that. I hope we aren't, when we are old and frail." Glorfindel remarked. Thranduil snorted. He stretched his legs out straight in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. He leaned back and supported his weight on the palms of his hands that rested on a step above the one he was sitting on. He spread out his fingers, enjoying the cool smooth texture of stone beneath his hands.

"I think we will remain the same as ever, my friend," Thranduil assured him. The pair laughed. Elves never aged, but they did grow weary of the world. Those who felt it was time, decide to set sail to the Grey Havens. And they were never seen again.

"I should be going." Glorfindel announced. "I have a lecture to give… on history of Jedi, no less." From the way Glorfindel smiled at him, Thranduil knew that he would never forget Thranduil's mistake.

"I will wait here." Thranduil replied.

"For the mad, half-crazy, lightsaber-wielding Jedi Shadow?" Glorfindel asked. His wide grin was plastered across his face. Thranduil rolled his eyes at him.

"Go and teach your students. Make a difference."

"I always do," Glorfindel quipped.

He remained seated while Glorfindel rose and dusted his robes. The Elf cleared away the tray and bid him farewell before returning to the temple. Thranduil remained where he was, facing the view of countless dark skyscrapers lighting up with lights and nightlife. The traffic was lessened to a steady flow. He watched the scene set out before him, his mind blissfully blank. He sensed someone approach him, until that person stood a few steps behind him.

"The Rodian's name was Palao Reves," Celil said. Thranduil turned his head around. Celil's face was directed forward as she addressed him. She wore the robes of same design and colour as he saw her last. She probably kept many clothes tailored in the same way as he kept his own. "He was known to be a small time criminal, so for him to take on a large assignment as killing a Senator is different. He may have been forced into it. In any case, he had a comrade by the name of Brysin Hardoud. He is often found in the same club every night. If all goes to plan, we have much to do and little time for it." Celil said. Thranduil hoisted up to his feet, his outer robe rustling about him in the movement. Celil's head finally faced him when she heard the sound of him rising.

"Let's go, then."

* * *

While Thranduil had many names for the lower levels of Coruscant, it was famously known as 'CoruscantUnderworld'. The Underworld never saw the light of day since the day of its birth. It remained dark, lit only by flashing neon lights from signboards and scattered streetlights that miraculously worked. Most children died before reaching adulthood in the dangerous streets of the Underworld. Those that became adults turned into thugs, warlords, thieves, assassins and other forms of criminals.

No politician gave them the light of day, and those that did only entertained them to meet their own ends. It was a wonder the Underworld still thrived. It was surprisingly well maintained in spite of the fact there was graffiti scrawled across the walls and parasites corroding the granites. Thranduil had to admit one thing; he admired the inhabitants'resilience against all odds in a nightmarish place such as this.

Their place of interest was a large club situated in the middle of the street, lined with shops of weaponry and other clubs on either side and across the street. Getting there was a hassle, since both Thranduil and Celil didn't bother disguising themselves to blend with the crowd. Their Jedi robes made them as prominent as two burning beacons for all to see. Too often Thranduil was nudged with an occasional insult thrown his way. Celil didn't fare any better. But no one directly challenged them outright and they scurried away before Thranduil and Celil reacted. Coruscant was the turf for politicians on one hand and Jedi on the other. Challenging either meant a life in prison, and harming or killing eithermeant death.

It was no surprise that the inhabitants of the Underworld resented their presence among them and the small insults and light nudges continued until they finally entered the club.

The smell of sweat and cheap perfumes met him first as soon as he stepped inside, all dimmed by the overpowering smell of alcohol. Music blasted painfully in his ears. The club was dark until he only saw silhouettes of people, outlined by the flashing white-blue light. His eyes adjusted to the darkness in bare moments, and he looked about his surroundings. He found the tables full of people, with scattered customers of various species loitering at the bar that was centred in the middle. To the right, the dance floor was so full he only made out various arms and legs in a tightknit herd of dancers. The females were dressed in skimpy clothes and the males were either drowning their sorrows in cups, gambling or flirting.

He felt a lingering, feather-light touch on his arm,immediately knowing what the touch invited. In response, he pulled back his outer robe and rested his hand on his lightsaber. The hand pulled away from him as if he seeped poison from his skin and he turned around to see the feminine, chiselled face of an orange-skinned, black and blue eyed humanoid. She was dressed in a small white dress that left little to imagination, but her handsome face was pulled into an ugly snarl. A second glance confirmed what he saw; two rows of sharply pointed white teeth.

"Jedi scum," she hissed before passing by him, her shoulder bumping harshly against his chest. It didn't hurt. Thranduil moved out of the way with a short laugh. When he looked at Celil, he found her watching him with brows raised in query.

"Apparently I am too handsome for my own good." Thranduil explained in a flippant tone. He could have sworn he saw a ghost of a smile tugging Celil's lips before disappearing.

"I am sure you are sorely mistaken," she answered. She swept past him before he could answer.

"I like her," Thranduil murmured to himself, his voice too low for her to hear above the deafening music. For a moment, Thranduil's thought shot towards Mace, and he grinned. If only Celil were as outspoken as he was. Mace would have his hands full.

The bartender was a Twi'lek, who gave them his attention when he spotted their lightsabers. That's what he liked about Coruscant. Here, the appearance of a Jedi was usually more than enough to get the job done.

"We are looking for someone." Thranduil said. He had to speak loudly; the music boomed, forcing the drinks to quiver.

"Brysin Hardoud," Celil supplied. The humanoid waved a distracted hand towards a corner. Thranduil and Celil turned their heads in the indicated direction. A man sat alone, his seat against the wall, eyes shifting nervously around the club before resting on them.

"He's expecting us." Thranduil said. Celil nodded and didn't reply.

Brysin didn't bother to move from his position as they walked up to him. He peered at their faces before turning his attention to their lightsabers warily.

"Good evening," Thranduil spoke first. His voice was calm, soothing and pleasant. A little bit of Force seeped into his voice, lulling Brysin's alertness slightly. Celil looked his way sharply, but for what reason, Thranduil didn't know. It wasn't the time to ask. "I trust you are enjoying your drink."

Brysin's drink lay untouched and full to the brim within the reach of his hand.

The man was in his early thirties, with an intricate tattoo along the side of his face. His skin was tanned and taut over bulging muscles. His head and face was shaved, but his thick brows were jet black. There was a scar over his upper lip that pulled his mouth in a permanent snarl. Life in the Underworld was no doubt tough for him. For a moment, Thranduil pitied him; it wasn't his fault he was born in criminalised slums.

But what really drew Thranduil's attention was the fact that the man looked afraid. His dark brown eyes were nervous and his hands were clenched even as they rested over the surface. Thranduil would have thought he was spoiling for a fight if it weren't for the fact that he seemed to be on edge. It reminded him of a hunted prey, looking for its hunter.

Brysin shifted in his seat, and Thranduil noted the blaster in its holder, buckled to his belt.

"I don't want any trouble, Jedi," the man rumbled. Brysinspoke in a gravelly tone, with the slur of someone born in the streets.

"We don't want to, either," Thranduil returned. The Force still seeped into his voice like water-drops from a sieve, but he lessened it considerably. Celil was still as tense as a coiledwire beside him. She seemed to inch away from him. "You were friends with a Rodian by the name of Palao Reves. He died in a suicide bombing which was meant to kill Senator Galadriel with her escort."

"I know nothing of this." Brysin said, though his voice wavered. His complexion grew pale. Brysin was terrified. But of what? It was obvious he wasn't afraid of them. He was afraid of something else, and whatever it was, it prevented Brysin from telling them the information they needed.

"Ah, but you do," Thranduil replied. Guilt welled up within him. Ethically, it was not the Jedi way to use mind-bending skills without reason during a questioning. He removed the trace of the Force from his voice. "You know what I speak of. In fact, I am sure you even know who his employer was. We'd pay you handsomely for any information you have."

Brysin's jawline worked as if he swallowed few times. Then he reached the glass in sharp, jerky movements and took a large gulp from it. He stared unseeingly ahead. His hand tensed around his glass and he threw the glass at them.

Celil swung back easily, the glass missing her by several inches. Some of the drink splashed over the edge of hersleeve. Thranduil reached for his lightsaber partially but hesitated, not wanting to start a fight in a crowded club. Brysin stood up quickly, throwing the table at the two Jedi. Itlanded on the ground with a loud crash, and its middle decoration sailed and shattered on the floor. The commotion was loud enough to break through the throes of the music and the customers nearest to them retreated from them with a loud gasp. Brysin fled before either of them could react.

"We can catch him outside!" Celil told him.

Thranduil sprang into action, shrugging off his outer robe. It fell in his wake, already forgotten by its owner.

Freed from the confinement of that robe, he chased the man out of the bar. He was dimly aware of Celil close behind him. The lack of music following him was a blessing to his ears. He lost sight of the man as soon as he entered the street and briefly skidded to a halt and scanned the crowds. Where was he?

He caught a fleeing figure between the crowds, and for a moment it paused and looked back. It was Brysin. Their eyes met before the man bolted again.

"There!" Thranduil pointed at Brysin before suddenly feeling foolish at the gesture. But Celil nodded.

"I will follow him from above," Celil said. She ran to the opposite building, grabbed the ascending pipe and shimmied up to the top. Thranduil watched her fleetingly before turning around and giving a chase.

"Out of the way," Thranduil barked at any pedestrians who gaped at him as he shouldered his way through the throngs of people. He pushed back a togruta male from his path, his eyes trained on Brysin.

Thranduil followed Brysin to the end of the street where the crowd had reasonably thinned down. Brysin skidded to a halt at the fence, before taking a few steps back and taking a leap off the fence, landing on a carrier. Thranduil pushed forward and with one hand on the top rod of the fence, swung over and landed on a transporter. Brysin's carrier was travelling faster than his own. He needed to change vehicles.

The multi-layered traffic was an intricate map of moving routes. Thranduil's mind sketched out a rough route to Brysinby judging the speeds and probable destinations of each member of the traffic.

Once he had decided on his course the Force flowed through his body, licking down his spine and gathering into his legs. He tensed and sprang into the air, the Force propelling him forward. He reached the distant carrier without a problem, landing lightly on his feet. He straightened and whirled around, his green robes flapping about him. His eyes searched the traffic carefully, until he spotted a blue-robed figure some levels of bustling traffic below him. Celil nimbly leapt from one hovering vehicle to another without losing her balance. For a split second, Thranduil stared at her agility before focusing his attention on his mark.

A speeder overtook the vessel Thranduil was riding on, and with the Force building in his legs he took a long leap, landing right behind the driver. The speeder was built in the shape of an arrowhead, the surface smooth and shining. And the driver wasn't pleased about acquiring a passenger.

The tinted glass separating Thranduil from the driver didn't allow him to see precisely who his new escort was but from the shaking fist Thranduil guessed he wasn't happy to see a Jedi holding on to his precious vehicle. And when the vehicle swerved to the side, Thranduil was very sure he wasn't happy.

He lost his balance when the speeder tilted, barely holding on. He looked for Brysin and muttered a curse. The man was getting away, but he saw Celil close behind. Thranduil spotted a line of billboards hovering below him. He waited for a moment until he reached one before letting go.

The Force was like a guide. It angled his body just right, whispered in his ear to trust its path. Thranduil allowed his body follow the trajectory until he landed lightly and painlessly on a billboard, held in the air with antigravity mechanisms. Thranduil ran across the metallic rod over the billboard easily before jumping and landing on a building. He crossed the roof until he reached a pipeline joining the building with the next one. Brysin's flighter whizzed past him. Thankfully Celil was gaining on him.

The pipeline was actually a ventilation shaft connecting the two buildings together. Thranduil glanced up and down it, before placing one careful foot on it. The pipeline seemed sturdy, and the wind wasn't strong. The sweat on his face began to cool in the breeze. The sound of vehicles whizzing past him roared in his ears and he saw how far he could fall if he slipped. Inhaling, Thranduil hardened his heart and took another step.

It grew easier each step and soon Thranduil scaled the pipeline in a near-sprint. He landed on the other building with an inward sigh of relief and ran to the other end, hoppingdown to the platform directly below him. He looked around and found he was in a docking area for civilian vehicles. Thranduil chose the closest one and swung himself in. Hemanaged to quickly to bypass security on the vehicle and thecontrols flared to life, lights blinking in the dark landing dock. Soon he was in the air and he joined the traffic, searching the intricate layers of vehicles flying one over the other for his companion. Thranduil admitted to himself he was driving rashly when he narrowly missed crashing his transport into another twice. He soon found Celil leaping from one vehicle to another in the traffic. He swooped down and angled his transport with hers.

"Jump in!" Thranduil shouted at Celil. The Shadow obeyed without a question. She smoothly leapt into the air and sat down beside him. Her fingers quickly roamed over the front deck, the seats, and her door and finally rested on his arm. She pulled away and gave him an accusatory glare.

"Where did you get this?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"The Jedi Council doesn't approve of us using civilian-marked vehicles!"

"I said it doesn't matter!"

"To you, maybe!"

Thranduil shot her a distracted look before training all his attention at the fleeing criminal. Apparently, panic at his maniacal driving loosened her tongue. Thranduil stared straight ahead and saw the criminal turn around at the waist, the blaster in his head.

"Incoming!" Thranduil warned.

Celil stood up at a blinding speed and pulled out her lightsaber, and deflected the incoming bullets. Brysin aimed for Thranduil and shot another round.

Instinct seized him in a chokehold. He swerved the transport to the side, Thranduil's body slamming against his door. Celilcrashed against his free side then sailed right past him… out of the vehicle. Thranduil's chest constricted. He straightened his transporter and looked down. Celil's body bumped against a speeder before falling on a flat, spherical platform several feet before him.

Then his transporter gave a rough jolt, throwing him against the dashboard. He pulled back with the support of his handand cursed as he surveyed the dashboard which beeped in warning. The controls were lost to him. Apparently the criminal had managed to shoot and ruin the engine of his vehicle. And it was failing him fast.

The transport lurched to the side, gaining speed. Thranduil gritted his teeth and channelled the Force through his right hand and directed it at the criminal. The Force burst forth like a powerful gust of wind, throwing Brysin off his speeder. Thranduil bent his legs at the knees and tensed lightly before leaping in the air.

Brysin landed on a sloping platform covering a building. Thranduil streamlined his body, letting the air carry him to the fallen outlaw. The vehicle he had used exploded behind him. Thranduil kept his eyes on the ground that rapidly rose up to greet him. In the last few seconds, he flipped backward so that he landed feet first.

Thranduil knew it would hurt before he even hit the ground.

Sharp pain lanced through his legs. Even the Force had its limits in cushioning the fall. Thranduil lost his balance and tipped forward with a grunt. He instinctively rolled along the sloping surface before stopping the roll by placing his palms on the cold metallic slope. He came up on his hands and knees and with gritted teeth he pulled himself to an upright position. He looked about, until his gaze finally rested on Brysin.

The man was cornered by Thranduil in front and a sheer drop behind. Behind Brysin, Thranduil could see power generators several feet long that fed the entire planet with power. The generators cast the entire area in bright orange-gold light. There was no escape from here, since no vehicle flew so low to the power lines. Brysin had nowhere to go. And he was well aware of that.

The man's determined look turned into one of pure terror.

"No," he shouted. The wind blew harshly around them, given the steep height they were at. It stole the man's voice away; Thranduil barely heard him.

"I only wish to talk." Thranduil said calmly. His voice carried in the wind, his hair and robes whipping about his form. The orange light cast his face in a sharp relief, warming his skin. He took steady, definite steps forward. The man retreated, coming dangerously close to the sheer drop behind him.

"No! Stay back! Please! I didn't-"

Brysin jerked backward, eyes widening in surprise. Thranduil frowned. His eyes fell down at Brysin's shirt, which rapidly stained red. His eyes widened, realising it was blood. The man's eyes rolled upward and he pitched back. He fell on the ground with a loud thud, rolled down the slope and off the ledge in a matter of seconds.

Thranduil pulled free his lightsaber and switched it on. He whirled around sharply at the new threat.

He blessed his Elven eyesight for what he saw. A shadowy figure was perched at the top of a nearby building. The figure was fully armoured and bore a sniper rifle in its hands. The assassin was short and stout, but Thranduil couldn't see his face because of his helmet.

Thranduil kept his lightsaber raised to deflect any shots directed his way, but the assassin remained crouched. Then it tilted its head in a predator-like fashion and Thranduil was sure it was assessing him. Then it leapt into the air and flew away with the help of its jet pack. Thranduil closed his lightsaber and hooked it back on its belt. He didn't bother to give chase; there was no way he'd catch up.

He heard someone land lightly beside him on their feet and he instinctively knew it was Celil without needing to turn.

"We lost him." Thranduil said. His voice sounded much steadier than he felt, with the adrenaline still pumping in his blood. He inwardly cursed. Celil came to stand beside his shoulder and he turned and looked down upon her. Her eyes were fixed forward on nothing in particular but she addressed him.

"It doesn't matter," Celil answered. Her voice was more winded than his own, and her chest rose and fell heavily, probably because she took the longer, harder route than the one he took.

He looked down and gauged the distance. The broken mangled body was caught on a ledge, but the distance was high enough to grant the criminal instant death. Thranduil bent slightly at the knees, the Force powering his legs before he took the leap. When he leapt, Celil followed him. Both of them landed cleanly on the ledge, right beside the body. Thranduil knelt and turned the body straight. Brysin's arms and legs flopped wildly. His mouth was wide open and his brown eyes stared listlessly into his own. Thranduil tore his eyes away from his face and searched for his wounds. There were several, and Thranduil counted five, all of them embedded in his chest. He dipped his finger into one of them and probed until he felt something hard against the pad of his finger. He shifted around until he managed to hook it free. He raised it high and inspected it. It was built like a bullet, one end pointed and the other flat. The metal was cold, smooth and hard under his fingertips. He found no other details in the dim light; he decided to inspect it further in the temple.

He turned his attention to Celil. The Shadow's hair was dishevelled, a few dark strands escaping her bun. There was a red scrape along her left temple.

He grasped Celil's chin lightly and tilted his head to inspect the injury. It was superficial; merely a graze that spilled no blood. He released her and when he looked into her eyes, he was momentarily drawn in by them. They were pure white. The outlines of where the pupils and irises should be were so faded that he had to look hard to find them. And yet she moved with such flexibility and speed in the chase that the blindness didn't seem to disable her.

How did she do it?

"We should go." Celil said. Her voice was surprisingly gentle when she turned her attention to the corpse. "We should hand the body over to the police."

The police would do nothing, except maybe look for a family or a loved one. If there was no one, as in most cases there weren't, the body was cremated and disposed of… just like that wthout any ceremony. Thranduil pursed his lips and said nothing. Celil didn't seem to notice his long silence and she continued.

"It's a pity we couldn't learn anything from him."

A sudden idea flared in Thranduil's mind and he shook his head.

"No, I think we learned plenty." He pocketed the bullet in a pouch hanging from his belt. He needed to return to the temple as quickly as possible to study it. "Let's go, so that we can return the temple as soon as possible. We have much to discuss."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Sorry for the lateness of this chapter, I kept forgetting and so Thursdays came and went. :)

 **Replies to anon:**

Sky: Thank you!

Talking Teapot: Thanks! I am glad you enjoyed it!


	8. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:**

Thanks to Certh, Raider-K, feathered moon wings, BrightPath2, guest, Pip the Dark Lord of All, Jesus' girl 4ever, OlivierMiria89, horseyyay AKA Morgoth, Mirkwood Warrior and SmileyXs Ice-cream Sprinkles for their reviews!

Thanks to Certh for her help in correcting the errors in previous chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

They met later in the Room of Thousand Fountains, after they went to their rooms to wash and dress. It was a greenhouse of sorts, lovingly cared for and open for all Jedi for meditation. All forms of trees from various planets grew there, even the ones that were most sensitive to weather, sunlight and soil. Thranduil fell in love with the Room when he was a Padawan. He used to linger inside it, especially when he missed his planet terribly. It was a refuge.

The Room consisted of an outlay of numerous waterfalls, streams and fountains with bridges made of stone, metal and wood. There were scattered benches and clearings for anyone who wished to meditate or work in the green environment. He found Celil in a visible clearing near the entrance. He heard the low whistles of birds that inhabited the Room, the sounds of which soothed him. He walked up to Celil on the grey pebbled pathway leading him to the clearing she was in. His footfalls pattered over the stones and he saw Celil's head angle slightly towards the sound.

"You are here at last, Master Thranduil. Join me."

Thranduil frowned a bit.

"How did you know it was me?"

Celil's smile was a small phantom lurking about her lips.

"You have distinctive footfalls." She answered. But Thranduil looked at her with doubt and felt as if there was more to it that she wasn't telling him. Still, he sensed it wasn't the time to press for more detailed answers so he silently accepted it. Celil gestured him to sit. He sat down in front of her, cross-legged in a single fluid motion. The grass below him was soft and the ground sank below him luxuriously. The gardeners that tended the Room of Thousand Fountains were ordinary people who only served the Jedi out of respect. They gave their entire devotion to the Room and Thranduil had to admit they turned the Room into a beautiful masterpiece.

"And my name is Thranduil," Thranduil added as an afterthought. "I prefer not to use the title 'Master'." Celil seemed surprised but thankfully she didn't comment on it. Instead, she gestured towards something that lay beside her. It was half-hidden but clearly of polished silver metal.

"I have here a database of all known criminals that could be possibly being our unknown assassin. You should look into it." Celil passed it to him.

"I should do it?" Thranduil repeated. He was surprised but he accepted the database nevertheless. Celil gave him a small smile; it was among the few he witnessed since they worked together.

"You may have noticed," Celil said dryly. She raised her hand, her index and middle finger gesturing towards her eyes, "I am somewhat short for the errand." Thranduil snorted in amusement.

"You do realise there is nothing for us to narrow down this assassin with." Thranduil said as he switched on the database and stared at the brightly lit blue letterings.

"Not true," Celil corrected. "The assassin was barely five foot and sturdy."

"He prefers a sniper rifle," Thranduil said. His hands flew over the keyboard as he keyed in the specifications. "There is a slouch in his posture, so he may have some form of deformity or impairment."

"Hm," was all Thranduil could say. His entire focus was on the search.

"That should narrow down the results." Celil concluded. Thranduil finished and let the system run the searches.

"Nothing," Thranduil said. He gave a loud exhale and fought back the frustration building within him. Celil seemed to sense it, even if she wasn't looking at him. Instead, she sat calmly with her legs tucked under her and her back straight but relaxed. Her gaze was unseeing towards the tree in her line of sight.

"We'll find him." Celil said. Her voice was marginally colourless, so Thranduil wasn't sure if she was trying to assure him or not, nor did she gave him the time to consider her words when she continued, "What about the dart you pulled free from Brysin's wound?"

"Not in this database," Thranduil said. He held up the dart and turned it about between his fingers. "The Republic doesn't keep records of the weaponry belonging outside of the Republican domain. This undoubtedly belongs to the Outer Rim. I am not sure from where, however."

"Is there any way for you to find out from where?"

"Yes, I can, back at Arda system," Thranduil agreed. "If I am to be dismissed from here, then I will follow it." Thranduil lowered his head and he stared down at the grass blades. His fingers tug through the soil mindlessly, as he watched the ants track their way through the grass.

"He was afraid." It was a declaration, but it was softly spoken, no higher than the voices of birds. "Brysin didn't run just to escape us. He ran because he was afraid. But he wasn't afraid of us. He was afraid of someone who hired his friend." Celil agreed wordlessly by the dip of her head. "That doesn't mean good for us."

"Yes, it doesn't." Celil agreed.

"How did you lose your sight?" Thranduil asked. He was then surprised when he heard her give a small laugh. It was feminine, but muted. He would've missed it if it was any lower.

"You are the first Elf I encountered who didn't ask me about my sight immediately after meeting me." Celil said. She opened her eyes, but curiously, she didn't face him. Her fingers trailed over the soft grassy bed they were sitting on and curled around some grass blades. "It was the Trial of the Flesh," she said. Thranduil said nothing, though he understood perfectly. The Padawans needed to pass Jedi Trials to attain the position of Jedi Knights. "My mentor and I were assigned a mission to track down a potential artefact and dispose of it after learning its secrets." Her hands returned to her lap and folded together over the blue garment covering her thighs. "It was a difficult mission, and the artefact was destroyed during the fight against a group of acolytes worshipping the Sith. There was no safety, and no protection. I lost my eyesight in that fight. But I recovered in the rest of my body. I was declared a Jedi Knight once I reached the temple." Thranduil didn't know what to say.

"I am sorry," Thranduil said finally. Celil gave a short laugh.

"Do not be," she told him. "You couldn't have known and I have long since made my peace with it."

Thranduil and Celil fell into a long companionable silence.

"You struggle with restraint."

Thranduil looked up. The Shadow sat across from him, cross-legged. The underside of her boots were wet, stuck with soil and dotted with broken bits of grass. Her facial features were relaxed and yet there was something about her, as if she was ready to spring free at any moment. She wasn't looking at him, as usual, but staring straight as if she was looking into an unseen void.

"How do you know?" He asked, returning his eyes to his task.

"Emotions change the Force. I can feel it shift within you. You fear that one day you will overuse your powers and slip to the dark side." Celil said.

There was a long pause.

"Forgive me." Celil said quietly. "I did not mean to offend you."

"I am not." Thranduil denied. He rubbed his hands over his thighs. A songbird perched on a low branch beside him and sang a low note. He shifted lightly. He wasn't offended, but he was certainly uneasy at the thought that Celil discerned so much about him when he only met her for a couple of times. He didn't like when some strangers learned more about him than sometimes he knew about himself.

Celil, on the other hand, turned her attention completely elsewhere. Her expression was thoughtful. Her fingers dipped to her side and she lifted a containment box and set it between them.

"It's such a curious thing." Celil murmured. Her fingers began working on the locks without any hindrance and she continued to speak as she did so. "I've never seen the like of this one before. To embed the dark side of the Force into a gem is possible, and yet it has little function. And there is something else." She lifted the gem free and held it up in one hand, one tip of the gem captured between her fingertips. "And there is something else about this that is different." Thranduil said nothing and watched her in wary fascination. Celil let go of the gem. Thranduil immediately protested but it died in his throat when he saw the gem hovered in the air. Thranduil eyed the Elleth and found she was half-distracted.

"Celil-"

Celil didn't react. She completely immersed in what she was doing. He watched her for a moment. She was trying to seek the nature of the dark side within the gem, he realised. Then he felt ripples through the Force. The Force was considered like a fabric; if one shook a part of the cloth then the waves until it reached all the corners. The songbird gave a sharp cry and flapped away.

The sight of a small crack in the edge of the gem was all the warning Thranduil truly got. It began to shine into a brilliant white beam.

"Celil," he cautioned. But he got no further.

The gem broke with a blinding white light. He instinctively drew back from it. The shards fell everywhere but as it was mostly powder, it barely hurt Thranduil. The disruptive Force released from the gem swept through them like shockwaves through them. It wasn't powerful, but it was certainly noticeable.

He looked up and found Celil prostrated on the ground. Her hair was freed from its restraints.

"Celil?" Thranduil called to her. He shook her shoulder. Celil's head flopped to the side like a limp ragdoll. Thranduil's heart picked up a pace. His finger found her pulse. It was steady, but slow. Thranduil's hand pulled back sharply. He sensed her reserve of the Force was significantly depleted. "Celil!" She remained unresponsive. With one arm behind her shoulders and underneath her knees, he hoisted her up and ran to the infirmary.

* * *

The infirmary was full of cold, crisp air. The light was unforgivingly bright; the walls were white paint and polished steel. The floor was spotless and smooth. Cubicles lined either side of the infirmary and Mace saw the medical droids hover past him.

The healers were both Jedi and otherwise. The Jedi healers were dressed in long flowing robes of dark brown, with a light brown mantle over their shoulders. Their hoods were pulled up until their faces were shadowed. Mace stepped out the open cubicle completely.

Mace finally rested his eyes on the long muscled figure of the Elf beside him. Thranduil stood with his back pressed against a wall. His arms were folded in front of him. As Mace neared him, he caught a whiff of fresh soil and crushed grass. Mace turned to him.

"You have a way of causing trouble, Master Thranduil," Mace said mildly. Thranduil gave him a bleak, jaunty smile.

"This time, it was completely unintentional," Thranduil quipped. Mace chuckled deep from his chest. Thranduil's smile slipped off his face and he tilted his chin towards the open cubicle.

"How is she?"

Mace looked over his shoulder. Celil lay prone on her back on the long bed with stark white bed sheets. Her face was pale, but it gained some colour after the healers tended to her. She was dressed in a fitted brown suit, the blanket pulled to her waist. Her black hair covered the pillow.

"The damage to her body is only slight bruising to her hands and arms." Mace said. "But the damage is more severe to the Force within her." Thranduil shook his head.

"Is that even possible?" Thranduil wondered.

"It's hard to say," Mace said. "But there was something about the gem that wasn't natural."

"I know," Thranduil said. "What do you think about the gem?"

"Normally, the dark side of the Force is poured into the gem." Mace said. "But the gem felt… different. I never felt anything like it before. As for Celil, she will recover." Mace glanced back to the unconscious Elleth. He turned his attention back to Thranduil. The Elf held himself so well that Mace wondered if he felt tired. "Senator Galadriel left a message for you." Mace told him. Thranduil pushed himself off the wall.

"Then I must go and speak to her."

"It's late," Mace commented. "I think politicians retire early."

Thranduil lifted a single shoulder in a shrug.

"Not Senator Galadriel," Thranduil said. Before he left, the Elf hesitated briefly. "Am I needed for a report?"

Mace stared at him with partly opened lips. He couldn't believe it but Thranduil looked like he was actually _asking_ him.

"Uh," Mace uttered intelligently. Then he chided himself and inwardly shook his head, "No, not tonight. You can speak before the council tomorrow morning."

Thranduil grimaced when Mace mentioned the council. The Elf wasn't fond of facing authorities. He turned into more of a hermit. The idea amused him enough to nearly betray his lips. Thranduil's forehead creased lightly in a confused frown.

"Go," Mace said solemnly. Thranduil opened his mouth as if to say something, but he nodded in farewell and left.

"Full of surprises, he is," Yoda said. Mace gave a noncommittal grunt. Yoda looked up at him with large eyes.

"Good heart, he has."

* * *

The call from Senator Galadriel didn't surprise Thranduil at all. But it did surprise him to see that his friend was restless.

"You seem restless," Thranduil observed mildly when Galadriel paced in front of him the fourth time. He sat casually on the sofa facing the window, basking in the warmth of sunlight. Galadriel stopped in front of him with a whirl of green and golden dress. Thranduil gave a small noise of protest when her shade fell over him but it stopped short in his throat when he looked up at her face and saw her frown.

"What is it?" Thranduil asked finally. Galadriel placed her hands on her hips, her fingers absently playing with the golden sash wound tightly about her waist, enhancing her figure. Her dress was essentially deep green in colours with whorls of airbrushed golden along the hem of her skirt and edges of her sleeves. Her collar was high, with one yellow stone of her pendant peeking through the folds. Galadriel still didn't reply. "You know, that is a pretty dress." He commented.

"The aide just dressed me in whatever they pleased," Galadriel remarked distractedly, waving a hand in the air. Thranduil sighed when she began to pace again. Thranduil uncrossed his legs and stood up. He blocked her way when she came back and captured her wrists lightly.

"What is it?" He asked sternly. "And answer me clearly."

Galadriel sighed and pulled back, the silky fabric of her sleeves whispering through his fingers. She sat down on the sofa Thranduil vacated and patted wordlessly the space beside her on the sofa. Thranduil narrowed his eyes at her for a moment. Whatever was Galadriel's mind, he doubted he would like it. Still, he obeyed and sat down beside her casually, with one leg curled underneath him and the other stretched out.

"The meeting," Galadriel began. She looked up and met Thranduil's eyes directly. "It didn't go as well as I expected it to. Chancellor Palpatine wasn't happy with my little stunt just like I predicted."

Thranduil was certain he wasn't going to like the news.

Galadriel began carefully and kept her hand on his, probably to make sure he didn't leap up and stride off. Thranduil was slightly insulted by her notion, but then he knew she wasn't far from the truth. He listened quietly, until her voice began to fade out with the angry roaring in his ears. He heard her still, but her words didn't sink in.

"Thranduil, say something," There was a plea in Galadriel's voice, mixed with some wariness. He slowly became aware with his tightly pursed lips and his hard facial features. He got up, and her hand slipped off his. He walked over the window, walked back before repeating the motion.

"You seem agitated." Galadriel said mildly behind him. Thranduil whirled on his heel and glowered at all. Galadriel's lips twitched upwards dangerously. The smile was contagious and Thranduil found himself responding to it. Then Galadriel's news returned in his mind and his lips curled into distaste. Galadriel's smile faded.

"One thing that the council should learn is that the Jedi aren't here to answer everyone's back and call." Thranduil said, his voice dangerously low.

"I know." Galadriel said softly. Thranduil barely heard her as he continued.

"I don't what game the chancellor is playing but binding me down to only protect a senator from harm rather than investigate this case is nothing but a foolhardy thing to do-"

"I know, Thranduil, but-" Galadriel tried to break in but again, Thranduil was too fumed to stop.

"Thranduil!" Galadriel cried. She rose to her feet and in small seconds covered the distance between them. She placed her hands on his arms and looked up at him to console him. "I know you are upset-"

Thranduil scoffed. Upset wasn't the word he preferred. He was downright incensed. Galadriel closed her mouth and shook her head tiredly.

"I met Glorfindel yesterday," Galadriel said. It was tactic to change the subject and Thranduil saw right through it. Still, he took it eagerly. Thranduil looked at her. She was tall, almost as tall as he was though she was slightly shorter. "Did you know that he was bonded?"

"I did." Thranduil acknowledged. "But I wasn't expecting it, and it took me a while to see it." Galadriel was quiet as she pondered on it.

"It's dangerous, isn't it?" Galadriel asked in a low murmur. Thranduil nodded, confirming it.

"Jedi couples are famous for children stronger in the Force than their parents, and also for ending in tragedies."

Galadriel looked at him sharply.

"I won't have this marriage fail," Galadriel said sharply. Her features softened slightly with a small smile. "He looked so happy and content when he came here."

Thranduil gave her a smile that matched hers.

"Yes, I saw it too," Thranduil nodded. Then he clicked his tongue against his teeth in mild annoyance. "I can't believe he married without inviting us to the wedding."

Galadriel gave a sensuous, throaty laugh.

"I agree. I wonder if Elrond knew." Galadriel's hands ran over the sash. "The two of them are such close friends they are nearly inseparable."

"If he is, he and I will have strong words," Thranduil said jokingly. He placed his hand against his chest with mock hurt. "I am truly wounded Glorfindel didn't tell us." His smile faded.

"I am no use standing guard for you, Galadriel," He said. "I can function better investigating your assassination out there rather than check reports over here."

Galadriel smiled in understanding.

"I know." Galadriel raised a pale hand and stroked his cheek. Then her smile widened into a flashing white grin. "That is why I spoke to Senator Organa and we agreed that since you are here to protect me, then I can decide the _best_ way to protect me is by going out there to investigate my assassination."

Thranduil raised his brows at that.

"The Chancellor will not be pleased."

"The Chancellor's displeasure is neither my concern nor yours." Galadriel's voice was smooth. "He has put you to my disposal, and I intend to use the advantage." Thranduil's eyebrows climbed higher.

"The Chancellor is smart. He won't be fooled twice."

Galadriel laughed. She patted Thranduil's cheek twice.

"Oh, Thranduil. If you ever enter politics, you will have so much to learn!" She said. "Of course, he expects me to do something. Then he will come up to me, all victorious, and he will realise that I knew all along and then he will know I am not yet to be outwitted and then the game will go on." Thranduil gaped.

Galadriel's smile turned sweet and innocent. Her eyes, on the other hand, were mischievously smug. She turned around and fluidly sat down on her couch. Her expression remained the same.

"You frighten me sometimes," Thranduil voiced. It came out more strangled than he anticipated. Galadriel smiled languidly, leaned back and bit the tip of her strawberry. Thranduil wondered if his friend knew how much she looked like a highborn woman who knew the true extent of power and was well-adapted to it. She crossed her legs for an effect, the green silk reflecting the light as she moved. He decided she looked more like an unattainable princess, comfortable with her power and beauty.

"It would do well for the Chancellor to realise it as well." Galadriel said.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Please do leave a review!

 **Replies to Anon:**

Guest: It does in British Language. :)


	9. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:**

Thanks to aiholic, Kandragon, BrightPath2, Raider-K, PadawanLilia, OlivierMira89, Certh, ATP, Jesus' girl 4ever and Smiley for their kind reviews!

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

"Hold it up higher."

Thranduil obeyed and raised the shard well above his shoulder's length. Celebrimbor ignored his discomfort and peered at the shard, his hologram flickering briefly. Then he shook his head.

"There is little I can discuss with you," he said. "I will need to examine the shard properly in person."

"When will you arrive?" Thranduil asked. He set the shard carefully in a containment box and sealed it.

"I am afraid I cannot." Celebrimbor answered. Thranduil looked up in surprise. The smith smiled a little and shook his head. "There are many errands here that demand my attention."

"Galadriel was nearly assassinated," Thranduil said in disbelief. He gestured his right hand at the box. "And the one who did it is no doubt either the maker of this crystal or the buyer of it. Surely you would like to know who was behind it."

Celebrimbor shook his head.

"I am sorry but I cannot leave this place. Some of the projects are at very sensitive phases." Celebrimbor hesitated. "How-how is Galadriel?"

Thranduil did not miss the silent longing in Celebrimbor's voice. So the rumours were true. He heard that long ago Celebrimbor had strong feelings for Galadriel. It was rumoured he even spoke of it to her, but Galadriel rejected him. It seemed as if he still had feelings.

"Well," Thranduil answered in a measured tone. "She is strong."

"Yes, she is." There was pride in Celebrimbor's voice.

"Celeborn was worried for her safety but he made sure he sent a larger company than before." Thranduil continued. Celebrimbor's smile dampened. He felt slightly malicious for doing so, but Celebrimbor needed to accept the hard reality. If the rumours and what he just witnessed had any truth, then it explained why Celebrimbor never married.

"What can you tell me about the crystal?" Thranduil questioned. "I need something I could use."

Celebrimbor leaned back in his chair, one arm folded over his chest and the hand of another flipping a coin as he thought. He was a handsome Elf, in a different sense. His features were sharp and refined like the rest of the Noldor. He wore his hair long, braided away from his place and usually pinned down with gilded clips. His dark eyebrows were thicker than usual and arched. His face was forever set in grimness, but Thranduil was never able to seek fault in that. Celebrimbor lived a difficult life and always tried to distance himself from his lineage. One thing he did inherit from the House of Fëanor was the gift of metalwork. It interested him, and he always had an unquenchable thirst for it for as long as Thranduil knew him. At times, Thranduil found him wearying for this very reason, but he never denied that in many things, Celebrimbor offered valuable advice.

"Well, it is of fine make, so the assassin certainly spared no expense." Celebrimbor said. "The smiths from every system have a different way of cutting gems. Individual smiths like to leave a mark on a gem to make it their own. I will have to examine it closer to tell you more. You said the crystal felt..." Celebrimbor flipped the coin in the air and caught it in his fist, "different?"

"It did," Thranduil affirmed. "It was filled with the dark side of the Force and something else. But I am not sure what." His finger traced the blue inlays on the box. "Is that even possible?"

"It is possible to fill an object with a part of your power." Celebrimbor said thoughtfully. "It is something Annatar is teaching us."

"Annatar?" Thranduil interrupted, alert. His thoughts went to the handsome Maia he met in Rivendell and how his instincts shrieked until he left. Celebrimbor nodded.

"Yes," Celebrimbor explained. The smith was not the kind to easily show he was impressed but this time he certainly sounded so. "Annatar is talented with metallurgy. He showed us how to mix the metals precisely at the right quantity in order to pour some power in them."

Thranduil frowned.

"We Jedi learned something similar." Thranduil said. "We were taught that we can pour the Force into an item but it is always at a cost. You have to give some of your own Force for doing it."

"Same is the case here," Celebrimbor said. "Do you know what it means? The possibilities are endless!" Thranduil was not sure that he liked Celebrimbor's enthusiasm. He patted the containment box.

"This had both the Force and... Something else. Was it possible that it was unstable?"

"Highly likely," Celebrimbor nodded. "Tell me, the girl; what happened to her precisely?"

"She was unharmed physically." Thranduil said. "There were minor cuts from where the shards hit her but that was all. The main damage was to her Force. It was depleted after the crystal broke."

"Then most likely it was unstable." Celebrimbor said. "It happened for us as well. We poured too much power in a ring and it broke-" Celebrimbor tapered off and offered him a wry smile, "I am boring you."

"A bit," Thranduil conceded with a guilty laugh. "But the topic falls under my investigation, unfortunately. Continue." Celebrimbor shook his head.

"Again, I will need to look at it personally." Celebrimbor finished. Thranduil sighed.

"I will see what I can do."

"Splendid," Celebrimbor said. He paused. "I will do anything I can to help Lady Galadriel."

"Celebrimbor-" Thranduil began.

"Don't," Celebrimbor interrupted. He smiled ruefully. "I must go." Thranduil was barely able to say goodbye when the communication cut off. He shook his head and glanced out the window. It was still dark.

"Might as well sleep," he muttered.

* * *

Her feet were bare.

She stood on a high ground, the land dipping and rising in many places. The black soil churned when she wiggled her toes. It was soft and warm to the touch. The air was humid and heavy. The sky was black laced with red. She barely saw a few feet from her in the shadow.

She knew where she was. This was the planet Mordor. Very few dared to enter it. So why was she here?

Sounds of a battle filled her ears. Galadriel turned frantically. Elves, Men and Dwarves appeared out of nothing and surrounded her. Fell creatures like Orcs, Wargs and others fought the Free People. They snarled and hooted. The stench of blood, dead and war filled her nose. Galadriel coughed, shaking in terror. Was she asleep? She needed to awaken!

The scenery changed. She now stood in a long throne room. The floor was arranged with brown tiles in numerous shades in an intricate pattern. The pillars on either side were carved to mimic leaves. A single throne stood at the far end of the room.

At first, she thought it was Oropher on the throne. She took one step after another. The figure on the throne was dressed in dark green and brown, head bowed low until his chin nearly rested on his chest. His arms were limp over his armrests. He raised his head and Galadriel's blood ran cold.

Thranduil sat in his father's place, the King's crown resting on his head. He was grim but the light in his eyes were fractured, as if he had seen so much grief.

The landscape changed. She stood in a cave with roughly shaped walls and dome-liked ceiling. There was barely any light coming from the dimly lit torches. She heard quiet sobbing. Entranced, Galadriel followed the voice, until she caught sight of a figure in a grey dress huddled against the corner of the cave. Silver-golden hair, much like hers covered half of that slender body. The hair, normally meant to shine, was matted and dull. Dread filled her. She took one hesitant step and loose stones scattered by the movement of her bare feet. The figure stopped crying and looked up. The eyes were her husband's but the rest of her features unmistakably resembled her own.

Galadriel woke, a scream ringing in her ears. Her bedroom door whizzed open. The scream did not stop. Haldir hurried inside, one hand on his sword and the other carrying a blaster. It took her a moment to realise that bloodcurdling scream belonged to her. She abruptly stopped and breathes heavily. Her chest heaved.

Haldir returned his blaster to its holder and knelt by her bed.

"It was nothing." Haldir soothed. He took her cold, clammy hand in his dry and warm ones. "Merely a dream, my lady."

"It was no dream," she croaked out. Haldir frowned and released her hand. He went to a nearby table and filled her glass of water. He returned and pressed the glass in her hand. She accepted it gratefully.

"Visions, my lady?" Haldir queried. Galadriel took one sip and lowered it, anxious.

"The aides, Haldir-" Haldir understood.

"I sent them away." He answered. "None were here when you called out."

"What did I say?" Galadriel asked quietly. Her voice regained some normalcy. She finished the rest of the glass.

"You spoke in the old dialect, my lady. I am not versed in it."

Galadriel gave the glass back to Haldir and leaned back in her pillows. The old dialect. Haldir meant Quenya. It was ancient, and barely a few people were versed in it. Galadriel heard it since she was a child. It was her native tongue. Mostly the Noldor understood and spoke it.

Galadriel felt old.

"The visions are getting out of hand," she murmured. Haldir, who was setting the glass back on the table, looked at her in worry. From his expression, she doubted he heard what she said.

"My lady?" He asked. Galadriel gave him a weary smile.

"It is nothing, my faithful captain." Galadriel comforted him. "Go. I will be fine now." The Elf hesitated but Galadriel did not rescind the command. Haldir nodded but he did not seem convinced. She smiled lightly in reassurance and Haldir, somewhat comforted, left.

Sleep did not arrive for her. Instead Galadriel tossed and turned under the covers. Her mind buzzed with the visions. She knew she could not wholly trust them: a man could choose from a thousand possibilities and each one brought endless consequences. And yet...

Morning could not have come sooner, in Galadriel's opinion. She gladly left the bed as soon as the first golden light seeped through the holes in her bedroom shutters. When the door whistled open, it was her aide who came instead of Haldir.

"Did you sleep well, my lady?" The maiden asked after her initial greeting. Galadriel thought back on her visions that plagued her and gave as bright a smile as she could manage.

"As well as could be," she said lightly. The aide looked at her with a scrutinising gaze before nodding slowly. Galadriel kept her smile. Sometimes she wondered if her aides were even true to her. Coruscant was full of spies and assassins for politicians and information is easily bought when you have an aide, a bodyguard or a helper of a politician in your pocket.

One might argue that the Elves were strongly knit. No Elf would deceive his kind. But Galadriel knew better. Even Elves were capable of dark deeds. History dictated that long ago.

"Shall I call in for breakfast after you have refreshed, my lady?" Her aide's voice broke through her doubts.

"Of course," she answered absently.

When she was finished eating, she inspected the outfit her aides laid hot for her. The dress decorating the mannequin was pretty but it was not the kind that Galadriel liked to wear. The neckline was wide and meant to leave the shoulders bare. The deep green silk wrapped around the mannequin closely and flatted at the knees. Its sleeves were fitted and ended in points. A golden sash wrapped around its waist and hips, accenting both. Galadriel looked at the dress and then looked at her aide.

"It will look wonderful on your frame, my lady." The aide answered her unspoken question. She folded her hands in front of her in an unspoken challenge. Galadriel studied her.

"I would like something else," she replied. The aide's smile never wavered.

"Humour me, my lady." The aide insisted. She turned and said before Galadriel could argue, "Your bath waits." Galadriel watched her leave.

"I am a Senator, and I cannot even order my aides." Galadriel muttered to herself. "Shame on you, Artanis." She heard her aide call her again, dimly, from the adjoining bathroom. Sighing, Galadriel went.

The walk to Chancellor's office was a pleasant one, even with trepidation pooling in the pit of her stomach.

She was stopped by the Senate guards outside the door. She smiled serenely at them both.

"Let me in," Galadriel ordered, placing one hand over the palm of another. "I assure you the Chancellor will like to take my call."

The guards looked at each uncertainly. Galadriel continued to smile sweetly at them. She learned one thing; females hold the power of being exceptionally forbidding by just being females. So she tilted back her head, squared her shoulders and stared down both the guards. They shifted slightly before mumbling that they will speak to the Chancellor. One of them went inside and in a short duration, came back to let her in.

"Thank you," she said gaily as she entered.

The room was comfortably cold. It was homely in colours of red, brown and gold. The Chancellor's desk sat in front of the window, his back to the scenic beauty outside. She barely understood why. If it were up to her, she would have the desk facing the window. The Chancellor sat on his chair and his second-in-command stood behind him, ever vigilant.

"Senator Galadriel," the Chancellor greeted her with a cordial, almost warm smile, as if she did not just try to brave her way past his guards. "This is an unexpected meeting."

"I merely wanted a moment of your time before the duties of the day swept us both away." Galadriel answered with her smile just as warm as his. It was all a game, she thought inwardly. A front; she doubted that man truly felt anything.

"Please," Palpatine gestured with one hand towards a chair in front of his desk. He was old, but age suited him. There were slight wrinkles at his temples, around his mouth and near his eyes. His hairline was receding and his hair was more grey than silver. Galadriel delicately shook her head, her smile still in place.

"Like I said, I will only take a while." Galadriel reached the chair and bit down the urge of resting her hands on the top of the seat. If she did that, then she knew how it would seem; as if she was impatient and restless. So she kept her hands folded in front of her and ambled around the chair Palpatine indicated. The Chancellor's smile wavered slightly.

"I was considering your offer for a bodyguard from the lines of the Jedi," she said. She leaned forward and traced the straight lines of burgundy paint varnished into the wood. "It was so touching that you cared so much for my safety that you chose not only a knight from their ranks but also one related to me."

"Senator-"

"But at the same time, I think it is nothing but a waste of resources," Galadriel continued as if she did not hear Palpatine's interruption. "We all know that the Jedi are meant to protect the galaxy and not just one person-"

"My lady, I assure you, your life is-"

"I insist not to waste such valuable resources over something so trivial," Galadriel continued. "It is better to just," she looked up and smiled, her palms rubbing together. "Reinstate Thranduil to the investigation." Palpatine fell silent.

"It seems," Palpatine said at length. "There is little I can say to change your mind."

Satisfied... And a little smug, Galadriel straightened and leaned back in her seat.

"None, really," she answered him. Her eyes met those of his second-in-command. He had an ugly face, which become uglier when it morphed into distaste while he looked down at her. Galadriel met his gaze squarely with soft eyes that were hard enough to project her strength. The humanoid looked away but his expression did not change. She did not care what the humanoid thought of her. She learned one thing from politics; to get your way, you have to take certain risks... And be foolish now and then.

"Wonderful," Galadriel said brightly. "I will inform Thranduil of this news personally as soon as I find him spare of time."

When she left the office, she allowed her smug little smirk grow into a full goading grin.

"And they say females aren't powerful," she drawled to herself. With a skip to her step, she went in search of Senator Organa.

* * *

He was greeted with the sight of Glorfindel holding a baby in his arms, swaddled in a fawn-coloured blanket. Apparently, Thranduil interrupted their play.

"Are you hiding something you haven't told me yet?" Thranduil jokingly said. Glorfindel lowered the babe with a laugh and cradled it on his arm.

"If I was hiding a bundle of joy, I'd tell you at least." Glorfindel said. The baby gurgled happily and his hand latched on to Glorfindel's hair. "This child was recovered from slavers. His parents are dead." The baby tugged hard on the chunk of golden lock. Glorfindel winced. "He shows great affinity to the Force."

"How great?" Thranduil asked. As if in answer, a book lying on Glorfindel's side table rose in the air. The baby's forehead was scrunched into a frown.

"That great," Glorfindel answered. The book fell with a thud. The baby released Glorfindel's hair and drooled.

"A Force-sensitive," Thranduil observed. Glorfindel nodded.

"There is a young couple in Gondor eager for a child." Glorfindel said. "They are kind. And gentle. He will be well taken care for." Thranduil inclined his head. A glass hovered in the air. Thranduil lunged from his chair and grabbed the glass before it dropped. He set it on a table and sat back.

"They will have their hands full with this one." Thranduil remarked. Glorfindel laughed.

"Do you want children?" Glorfindel asked. Thranduil looked up, surprised, and gave a baffled laugh. Glorfindel's face was perfectly serious. Thranduil's smile faded.

"You are serious," he noted, still in surprise

"Perfectly."

Thranduil sighed and extracted his finger from the boy. The baby turned his attention to Glorfindel's robes and began to tug on them.

"I never truly gave it much thought." Thranduil responded. "The chances of marriage and a family were finished once I joined the Order."

"But you can have a family." Glorfindel persisted. "I have married and I am sure you can as well-"

"Do not try to assuage your guilt by forcing me into marriage as well," Thranduil snapped. Glorfindel became quiet immediately. The baby, as if sensing the discord between them, gave a low restless whine. Thranduil took in a calming breath. Glorfindel rocked the baby back and forth. "I know why you ask. You jumped into wedlock the first chance you were given-"

"I love her," Glorfindel's voice was low and dangerous.

"And I am sure you do." Thranduil said. "But that doesn't change the fact that you broke your vows to the Order in return for these marriage vows. It drives you with guilt because you are the kind of a person who is staunch to follow the rules and when you don't, it gnaws you from the insides." Glorfindel's jaw clenched and unclench at frighteningly slow speed.

"Sometimes, Thranduil," Glorfindel said in the same dangerously low voice. "Even your sensible opinions warrant the desire to punch you."

Thranduil laughed. Glorfindel offered him a tiny smile.

"Well, then, you wouldn't be the first."

Glorfindel's smile grew and they moved on to safer topics.

On his way back, Thranduil met Yoda on the way. They both inclined their heads and exchanged a greeting. When they passed, Thranduil stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel quickly.

"Master Yoda! A word, please."

* * *

Thranduil's knee ached dully for kneeling so long but he kept his position. He rested one hand on his raised knee and the other flat on the ground. Yoda paced in front of him, his wooden cane tapped rhythmically over the floor.

"Back home, you must go." Yoda finally said. His eyes opened but he did not meet Thranduil's gaze. Instead he stared at the ground, with the same quiet air he always possessed. Thranduil tilted his head. Sometimes he thought Yoda was sorrowful than at peace. But then the duty of Grandmaster was a heavy burden. "The answers you seek, find them you will."

"Thank you, Master."

"Tell me, you will, of what you found."

"Of course, Master."

"And when you return, a mission I have to give."

"I will then return as soon as I can." Thranduil said, a promise in his voice. The Grandmaster nodded. Thranduil took it as a dismissal. He rose up to his full height and excused himself.

Thranduil returned to his room and packed a bag for him to take. He took his bag. Glorfindel was unavailable, so he left word of farewell to one of the Initiates.

He went to visit Galadriel next.

He found her easily, buried in work. She was in her rooms, in the office. The sun was just setting.

"You look more beautiful in the morning." Thranduil praised her. Galadriel snorted.

"Charming as ever," she said. "I have taken you off the leash." Thranduil blinked.

"What?"

"Chancellor Palpatine decided that you are more useful without playing bodyguard."

"Good," Thranduil said. He held up the containment box for the crystal shards. "I have to meet with Celebrimbor." Galadriel looked at him in surprise.

"Celebrimbor? Why?"

"I have a theory," Thranduil answered briefly. "I will tell you once I find something valuable." Galadriel smiled warmly.

"Then I must give a proper goodbye," she decided. "And I hope you find a proper solution." Galadriel rose from her chair and walked around it. She embraced him as soon as she neared him.

"Be careful," Galadriel whispered in Thranduil's ear. "Hollin has changed greatly since you visited it last. And my kin, Celebrimbor, has changed as well."

Thranduil frowned, not knowing what to say.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I apologise for the lateness of this chapter. I am a bit tied down, so my inspiration usually works on auto when RL gets tough.

Do leave a review! :)

aiholic- Yay for another person of who likes a mashup of these two universes! :D And double yay for your views on Thranduil. It matches mine. ;) What did you think of Tauriel?


	10. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:**

Thanks to the reviewers OlivierMira89, Random Guest, Guest, Certh, SmileyXs Ice-cream Sprinkles, Jesus' girl 4ever, aiholic, Kandragon, Brightpath2 for their reviews! You guys are amazing!

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

Thranduil peered out the window of his ship. Sunlight shone brightly in the noontime sky. There was not a cloud in sight. Bright green plains rolled beneath his craft, dotted by clusters of grey, rough stones and shadowed by his ship.

"We are nearly there," his pilot's calm voice called to him through the speakers. Thranduil did not bother to answer. Instead, he waited until a white city appeared in the horizon.

Ost-in-Edhil.

It covered a wide ground, and sat on a collection of three hills. Farming fields stretched out on all sides, like patches made on an old cloth. In Common Tongue, the name translated to "Fortress of the Elves", and it was indeed built like a fortress. White walls surrounded the capital, several feet high and at least a foot thick. It was manned by Elves and machines alike, the machines being the hard work of the smiths living within.

Ost-in-Edhil was famous even for those who had sparsest knowledge of Arda system. It was the pinnacle of Elven civilisation, and the hub for everything related to trade. It was also a guarded fortress. Ost-in-Edhil did not allow just anyone to enter the city. All Elves were welcome and Dwarves even more so. The rest were only allowed within its walls if someone from within invited them.

His pilot landed the ship at the docks connected to one of the walls. Besides the main gates, this was the only entrance into the city. He pressed the control linked to communications.

"Pilot, I will stay here for a few days. You are free until then," Thranduil said. He switched it off with a beep.

"Yes, sir," the pilot returned. Thranduil gathered a small bag of his things and stepped out the ship and into the sunlight. The planet was not as hot as Gondor and Rohan, but it was considerably warm at the peak of summer and just as cold without snow falling. No one batted an eye in his direction. When he was newly Knighted, people stopped what they were doing and nudged each other while he walked past. Now, there was no such thing, since many went to the Jedi Temple.

It was an odd sense of coming home, as soon as he stepped into the city. Lively chatter met his ears and he saw some sort of activity wherever he looked. He remembered Galadriel once calling it the city that never slept. And she was right. Ost-in-Edhil was well known for having busy streets even at midnight. The streets were easy for him to map; he came too many times to the city to keep count. It was nearly in his second nature.

He finally entered the centre of the city. A large marble statue stood in the middle of the square, as high as a building. Thranduil's neck cricked when he tilted his head back to see. It was a statue of muscled smith, with muscled limbs garbed in the clothing and apron of a smith. He held a hammer aloft in one hand, the other holding out three balls of gold, silver and bronze on his palm.

"Aulë," a voice spoke beside him. Thranduil glanced over his shoulder.

"Celebrimbor," Thranduil greeted him. "I was just coming your way."

"I know." He nodded. Then he smiled suddenly, white teeth flashing at him. "I decided to find you first before Celeborn caught hold of you." Celebrimbor beckoned him to follow. "Come; if you are not tired or in need of refreshments, then I would like to show you around the new portions of the city."

Thranduil was fine, but he lugged his bag of belongings with him. He said as much to Celebrimbor, who gestured to a nearby youngling, gave him Thranduil's things and told him to go up to the palace and inform Lord Celeborn about Thranduil's arrival. After he gaped in shock and awe at Thranduil, the boy scampered off.

"You certainly command a lot of attention," Celebrimbor remarked.

"The robes command a lot of attention," Thranduil corrected, ignoring some stares in his direction. Elven Jedi were much rarer than he thought. "So, where are we headed?"

"If I tell, then where will be the fun?"

"Possibly something related to your work," Thranduil guessed. "It could not be the markets. For all your interest in creating things, you despise the markets. Probably the forges. Or maybe newly constructed forges."

"Am I truly that predictable?" Celebrimbor asked, laughing when Thranduil was finished.

"If I tell, then where will be the fun?" Thranduil imitated. Celebrimbor laughed again. He waved his hands towards passing buildings as they walked. He described them in detail and filled Thranduil in with the latest changes around the city. Celebrimbor did not call for transport and Thranduil did not mind. He enjoyed walking anyway; there was so much more to see.

While Celebrimbor talked, Thranduil had the time to take in his appearance carefully. The hologram did little justice to Celebrimbor's appearance. He was as tall as Thranduil in real life, with lean legs, narrow hips and broad, muscled upper body from his work as a smith. His facial features were chiselled, as if someone curved his face from marble. His eyebrows were arched and thin, set beneath a wide forehead and silky black hair held in place with a simple silver circlet. His skin was pure white, and refused to darken no matter how long he spent in the sun. It seemed even paler since he spent so long indoors. There was a silver cuff on his right earlobe, from which three chains dangled. All three were tipped with small sapphires. He was dressed in completely in black, lined with intricate columns of silver thread. His belt was black leather, with two silver loops clasped together instead of an ordinary buckle. Thranduil knew Celebrimbor enjoyed making statements. His clothes made them; they were uncommon in a city full of colourful clothes other than black as well as in such a warm weather. Celebrimbor was not loose-tongued. He only spoke when necessary. As it was, conversation tapered into nothing once they reached the palace.

Thranduil followed Celebrimbor towards the palace, until the smith took a sharp turn to the right. Thranduil complied, curious. They did not speak along the way. Celebrimbor seemed preoccupied with his thoughts and Thranduil was content on letting his eyes wander. He saw many Dwarves at work, but humanoids were very few in number. And while the Elves were garbed in flowing robes, and the city guards wore swords at their sides, the city was medley between culture and technology. It suited Ost-in-Edhil.

"There," Celebrimbor pointed at a towering building before them. It stood alone, surrounded by winding roads. The structure was not complete, but it was serviceable.

"What is it?" Thranduil questioned, craning his head to look up.

"Forges," Celebrimbor answered. "It was petitioned for Gwaith-i-Mírdain." Gwaith-i-Mírdain was a guild of talented Elven craftsmen. The guild was still young but under Celebrimbor's leadership, it flourished and quickly became famous for their innovative creations. "We wanted another set of forges, so that we can not only work in peace, but upgrade to the latest technology." They reached the door. It was made of metal. A glazed emblem decorated it. Two leaf-barren trees stood at the edges. An anvil sat in the middle, with a hammer rested on it. The six-pointed star of Fëanor's house hovered above it. Celebrimbor indulged in a friendly conversation with the warden before the doors opened. "And I am pleased to say that this will simply take your breath away." Celebrimbor said with an excited twinkle in his eye.

Thranduil entered the forges and looked up. He inhaled sharply and nearly forgot to breathe again. Celebrimbor chuckled at his reaction.

"I warned you." The smith said.

The forges were still under construction but there was no doubt in his mind how magnificent they will turn out once they were complete. It was well-ventilated, with a brief hint of fire and smoke in the air. It was also well-lit, with numerous windows opening on all walls. The ceiling was vaulted, with a skylight of clear glass fitted in the centre. Sunlight streamed through the skylight. The building was built long and while they remained on foot, Thranduil noticed numerous vehicles of transport passing by them. Tracks crisscrossed above them, with thin trains riding on them. The machines barely made any noise. The real noise came from hammers meeting softened metal.

"Celeborn certainly spared no expense," Thranduil murmured in awe.

"Very true," Celebrimbor agreed. Then he added with a rueful laugh, "But then I hovered over the architect's shoulder as they made their plans. I am sure I have already driven him half-insane by now." When the doors opened, it seemed as if Thranduil entered a containment chamber. "We have yet to build our storage units," Celebrimbor added as an afterthought to explain the mess.

Crates upon crates littered the area. All of them were open, and Thranduil saw all kinds of ores lying in them. Some of them contained purified ingots. Celebrimbor led him forward until they came upon long tables, all of them laden with full trays of different gems.

Thranduil paused near a metal tray and picked up an oval-cut white gem. He held it high, admiring the light shattering within into numerous colours. Celebrimbor paused when he sensed Thranduil no longer followed him, turned and laughed.

"I should have known you would stop there." The smith said wryly. He retraced his steps and stood beside Thranduil. "Amazing, is it not?"

It was. It was also unlike anything Thranduil had ever seen. When the gem turned a certain way, Thranduil caught the barest flicker of a flame within the heart of the gem. It was blue in colour, flickering just like a lit candle would. But his fingers turned the gem once more, and the fire extinguished.

"What is it?"

"I used a technique my grandfather used. If you remember your lore, he knew how to create gems in such a way that they seemed to be in flames when placed in light."

Thranduil did indeed know his lore. He also knew that Fëanor was not just Celebrimbor's grandfather, but the only Elf most feared, revered and cursed even by Elves. He lowered the gem slightly. Celebrimbor despised his father's side of the family, and turned his back on them for all the atrocities they committed. But he inherited his love for metallurgy and craftsmanship from them. It was also said Celebrimbor was the closest person to resemble both his father and grandfather.

"I never realised you wanted to capture his creations." Thranduil commented casually. Celebrimbor shook his head.

"I do not want to," he corrected, seeming disgruntled. "But I always wondered if I could use the same effect with coloured stones and… well, I will let you know once the project I have in mind is completed."

Thranduil was not sure if he liked the sound of that. Celeborn once likened Celebrimbor as a wild untamed child left alone with too many toys… it seemed endearing but it was also dangerous and unpredictable. But little could stop Celebrimbor once he set his mind to something. Thranduil sighed and returned the gem to its tray.

"It is not dangerous, is it?" He asked warily. Celebrimbor gave a barking laugh.

"It isn't." He promised. His voice trembled with mirth. Did Celebrimbor know what Celeborn thought of him? He hoped not. "If anything, it will only be dangerous to me if I leave a compressed gem too long in the fire."

"And what will happen?"

"It will explode," Celebrimbor explained with an indifferent lift of his shoulder. He beckoned him. "Come."

Thranduil muttered under his breath about foolish smiths and their lust for experimentation before following.

Celebrimbor led him deeper into the building. It occurred to Thranduil that while the building seemed smaller from the outside, there was no lack of space. Also, the smiths designed the interior for practicality. He found no delicate designs on the pillars holding up the roof, or on their workbenches or anywhere else for that matter. The handles of their hammers were bound with leather and sewn with sturdy thick thread. The Elves were dressed in soot-covered, dirty clothes. Their sleeves were rolled to their elbows, and their hair bound in a single braid and held back with silver circlets. All of them were busy at work, and even when they saw Celebrimbor pass by them, they only acknowledged him by a single dip of their heads before returning to their task. It also occurred to him that Celebrimbor was completely at ease. He moved around the forges as if he moved around his own home, stopping for a bare few seconds to peruse a newly crafted item like a toy or a piece jewellery like someone who suddenly found the painting hanging in the corridor of his home interesting. Thranduil was content and looked around as he walked. They entered a small rectangular chamber, lined with numerous lockers. Numerous benches stood in the middle. It was not empty. He caught sight of some Elves conversing amongst themselves, soaked with perspiration and smelling of smoke. He heard distant laughter from a partially open door at a corner. He realised it led to the toilets. A young Elf, an apprentice if Thranduil recognised his uniform, ran quickly outside, helpless with laughter. A soaked Elf followed and tackled his legs. Celebrimbor laughed as he passed the two Elves, wrestling on the floor. The rest of the smiths watched, and shouted encouragements and suggestions.

"Things are rather casual here," Thranduil remarked.

"I encourage it," Celebrimbor remarked with a smile as he glanced at Thranduil. "A serious mind does not open many doors of creativity, I think." Celebrimbor lead him up winding steps. Thranduil glanced down, at the sheer drop below and felt slightly nervous.

"You know, it would not be a bad idea if you fit a fence at the edge." Thranduil told him. Celebrimbor grinned wolfishly.

"Don't tell me you are afraid of heights." He stated.

"I am more afraid of nothing stopping me from falling to my death."

"Anyone can lift you over the fence and drop you to your death."

"Oh that is simply _reassuring!_ "

They reached the top without any mishap. The top floor almost mirrored the floor beneath it, except the centre was made of clear glass tiles.

"Completely safe," Celebrimbor promised when Thranduil mentioned it. "The glass is reinforced, not the kind used for decorations and such. It is stronger than concrete, I assure you." Thranduil watched as apprentices left crates of ore on top of the glass floor without any qualms and decided he agreed with Celebrimbor. "Come here. We forge weapons here."

Thranduil entered a room full of boiling heat.

Perspiration beaded his forehead in a matter of minutes. The air seemed to simmer with heat. The room was devoid of windows, and the fires shone bright gold and red. The Elves wore full gear, their faces hidden behind iron masks and their hands covered with thick gloves. Celebrimbor led him quickly to a room adjoining it. One look and Thranduil knew it was where they finished the weapons. While Thranduil browsed he noticed one thing; there were no blasters.

Most would consider Arda system to be primitive and it was indeed true. They preferred the ancient weapons like swords, spears and bows. They were quite adept at them as well. But spears and arrows cannot penetrate the metallic smooth bodies of ships and swords were useless against blasters.

"You are creating hybrids," Thranduil concluded after examining a spear. He remembered faded memories, of his father teaching him the craft of weapons. Every weapon was a story, his father said. All stories have a writer, who creates them. And all stories have beginnings, chapters and endings. The smooth lines at steady intervals on the shaft marked the spear as retractable. Its spearhead was tapered in the form of a leaf and Thranduil knew the edges were sharp just by looking at them. It was inlayed with mithril, so that the metal imparted its strength into the spear.

"The people of Arda system are not accustomed to blasters." Celebrimbor said. "Hybrids will suit them more. Many other systems have done the same," Celebrimbor said. "I just need to find the right combinations to suit our height, weight and style of fighting." Thranduil stepped back from the bench and whirled the spear experimentally in his arms. It nearly wrenched backwards, the shaft moving quicker than he expected.

"It is too light." He told the smith. Celebrimbor nodded, smiling curving his lips.

"So I was told." Celebrimbor responded. "I do not know much about spears, I am afraid. I always proven efficient with a hammer." Thranduil imagined Celebrimbor wielding a hammer. It was an uncommon choice. A hammer was bulky, slow but caused more damage than a sword if the wielder knew how to use it. Thranduil stole a glance at Celebrimbor and smiled wryly. There was little doubt that Celebrimbor knew how to wield a tool of his trade efficiently, whether it was the kind for craftwork or for a battle.

"But duty comes first," Celebrimbor remarked, surprising Thranduil and interrupting his thoughts. "Yu have spent nearly two hours in my company and we have yet to explore the true goal of your arrival."

He was so lost in the wonders of the forges that he completely forgot about the real reason that brought him here. One look at Celebrimbor confirmed his suspicions. Celebrimbor tested him. Thranduil scowled. If there was anything that annoyed him about his own kind, it was their constant testing and prodding to see how much he changed after becoming a Jedi. He was still the same, except for the extra oaths and a power most Elves did not possess.

Celebrimbor bade him to follow and Thranduil complied, still fuming inwardly. The smith led him into a new forge. Thranduil was too deep in thought to notice the lack of inhabitants, and the fact it seemed more personal than the rest of the building. Celebrimbor went to a workbench and raised his palm wordlessly. Thranduil unhooked a pouch from his belt and unearthed an intricately designed containment box from its depths.

Celebrimbor looked amused.

"You keep a potentially dangerous gem in a pouch hooked to your belt?" He asked.

"It was in its containment box," Thranduil defended himself. Celebrimbor grinned and shook his head.

"If you were one of my apprentices, I would have you thrashed for such a rookie mistake," Celebrimbor told him before accepting the box. Thranduil snorted, his irritation evaporating. Celebrimbor seemed unrepentant about what he did and it was only a small trifle.

"I am a Jedi, not a smith." Celebrimbor shook his head and set the box on the table.

"That explains the lack of common sense," Celebrimbor retorted. He bent a little and rummaged in the shelves underneath his workbench.

"Why, Celebrimbor, I do believe that Celeborn's company is rubbing off on you." Thranduil quipped. Celebrimbor resurfaced, a wide grin pasted on his face. He tugged on his gloves and wore protective glasses.

"Don't I get mine?"

"You survived this long," Celebrimbor said with a smirk. "I am sure you will live longer. Besides, I have heard rumours that you have spoken to the King of Greenwood for a long time. Celeborn said the only way you'd speak to him is if you were wounded and cuffed to a bed in the infirmary." Thranduil made a face. He decided that all Elves- especially the ones he knew and unfortunately was related to- were gossipy in nature. Celebrimbor carefully unlocked the latch on the box and removed the lid. He slowly removed the cloth until their item of interest lay visible. The shards lay on the smooth cloth, looking entirely harmless. A studious frown settled on Celebrimbor's forehead. He dipped under the table again and brought out a wooden kit. He held up forceps and gingerly shifted through the shards.

"Finely made," Celebrimbor muttered. "And unfortunately… I recognise the craftsmanship."

"Do you?" Thranduil asked, suddenly attentive. He leaned forward. "Whose is it?"

Celebrimbor's skin was pale, but his face darkened with simmering pure rage. He pulled off his glasses and took an eyepiece from his kit and looked at the shards again through it. Finally he shook his head and offered the eyepiece to Thranduil.

"See for yourself," he said. He held up the shard for Thranduil to look at. He pointed delicately with a gloved finger. "Here."

Curious and wary, Thranduil looked. It took him a while to see it, but the glazed emblem against a clear background was unmistakeable. It was a miniature form of an anvil, crowned with a single six-pointed star.

"Isn't this your sign?" Thranduil asked. Celebrimbor nodded, face taut and grim. That was why he was furious, Thranduil realised. Celebrimbor blamed himself. Rumours were not easy to subdue, and Thranduil kept no secrets. Celebrimbor was fully aware how dangerous the gem was and how it was a declaration on the Senator's life. Using something he created, and against his own kin, it was a slap on his face.

"You are not to blame for this." Thranduil said quietly. Celebrimbor shook his head. He realised his gloved hands were fists resting on the workbench.

"I created something and someone used it for a purpose it was not created."

"And how were you to know that this could have happened?" Thranduil argued. "You are a creator, and it is not on you how others use your creations. Anyone could have been a target-"

"It was not anyone! It was Galadriel!" Celebrimbor exploded. Thranduil tilted his head back in surprise. Understanding dawned, and reality washed down on him like icy water.

He heard rumours for many years about Celebrimbor. It was widely known that he never married. He never showed the interest to marry. Some said he was made his craft his mistress and she demanded too much of his time. Others conjured a more romantic notion; that he was in love with someone who was either already wed, or with someone who did not love him in return. Either notion was outlandish for Elves. Thranduil brushed such rumours off. He was sure they were simply twisted lies to entertain people during a party.

But maybe they were not far from the truth.

And it was not just simple love, or affection. It was more. It was love, mixed with undying devotion and reverence. It was love, the kind that did not extinguish by some experience and did not fade over time. Some of Galadriel's decisions over the past few months suddenly made more sense. Her distant but pleasant demeanour when she spoke of Celebrimbor or if he was mentioned in her company, her reservations to return to Ost-in-Edhil. She stayed in Lórien under the pretence of Senator's obligations and it worked well for her.

"I thought it was all a lie," Thranduil said. He noticed how Celebrimbor fought for control. His head bowed and his breathing slowed. He shifted, no doubt uncomfortable for displaying such raw emotion. Thranduil briefly felt a pang of sympathy. For all his flaws and his eagerness, Celebrimbor was good at heart. Gentle, even. "I did not know that you loved her." Celebrimbor's gloves hissed against the workbench as his grip tightened on the edges. "For how long?"

Celebrimbor remained silent. Thranduil waited. His answer finally came when Thranduil nearly decided he was not going to hear an answer.

"Celeborn knew before I did." Celebrimbor whispered. "He said that I was the reincarnated version of my grandfather," he spat the last word as if it were poison in his mouth. "That I burned too brightly for my own good and a day will come where my fire will destroy my forges and everything I hold dear. And then he said that even Fëanor pined for Galadriel, in his own fashion. And that I was no different. The gall of him, to compare me to that- that- murderer." Celebrimbor stopped suddenly and straightened. Thranduil raised his eyebrows when he saw that Celebrimbor's face was carefully wiped clean of all feeling. It was as if he wore a mask. Even his eyes revealed nothing. Thranduil and Celebrimbor did not always get along, but he never saw him so… cold. The smith removed his gloves in jerky, mechanical motions and dropped them in a pile on the workbench.

"It will take some time to test the shards." Celebrimbor said dispassionately. "I would like to be thorough. If this gem exploded in the presence of two Jedi, then perhaps something else is at work that we are not aware of." He dipped his head, obviously dismissing him. But Thranduil persisted.

"Is that all?" He pressed. "How long will it take?"

"As long as it needs."

"I will come tomorrow," Thranduil offered. But Celebrimbor adamantly shook his head.

"I will call you when there are results."

There was the dismissal again. Thranduil knew he could not press him. Celebrimbor was stubborn. So he nodded wordlessly.

"Let me escort you to the entrance," Celebrimbor began but Thranduil stopped him with a raised hand and shook his head.

"I can find my way," Thranduil assured him. He paused for a second and added, "I am sorry, Celebrimbor. I do hope you find another you love more dearly."

Celebrimbor clenched his teeth and only answered him with a single nod. Thranduil understood that Celebrimbor did not wish to continue the conversation. As he murmured an excuse and walked through the massive array of corridors, he inwardly decided both Celebrimbor and Galadriel were very good actors. While many suspected, they simply brushed off the rumours as something inconceivable.

"You, my friend, are stuff from ballads," Thranduil muttered under his breath, thinking of Celebrimbor.

Instincts flared in answer just as he turned around the corner and he looked up just in time to avoid a painful meeting. He stepped back, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but when he looked up, he met the eyes of Annatar. Thranduil stepped further back warily, not liking the amused smirk on Annatar's face.

"Jedi Knight Thranduil Oropherion," Annatar greeted him softly. His voice reminded him of silk, smooth and slippery. His senses prickled unpleasantly at the sound. "We really should stop meeting like this."

"For that to happen, I think both of us should keep a healthy distance from corners," Thranduil answered. Annatar laughed and Thranduil's senses heightened. He fought to control himself, fought to control the Force from rippling uneasily within him. Even his Jedi senses were at an edge. He narrowed his eyes at Annatar and silently wondered what Annatar hid behind his charming façade.

"Most interesting," Annatar answered. Thranduil frowned, not understanding what warranted the reply. He did not ask; he was not sure if he would like the answer. "Tell me, who is the stuff of ballads?"

Thranduil hesitated. He did not like the probing nature of Annatar's question, no matter how harmless it seemed.

"That is personal," Thranduil responded. Annatar stepped closer, shortening the distance between them. Thranduil held his ground and met his eyes squarely.

"Perhaps there is something we can exchange so that I may know your thoughts." Annatar offered. His hands were clasped behind him. Thranduil drew back his outer robe and placed both his hands on his waist, exposing his lightsaber.

"My thoughts are not for bargain," he answered. Annatar posed for a moment. A frown appeared on his forehead, the first time Thranduil saw him troubled. Then Annatar smiled, chasing away the creases on his brow.

"Perhaps another time then," Annatar decided. He stepped back and out of his way, as if allowing him to pass through. "I hope we meet again."

"Likewise," Thranduil said, inwardly praying they did not. He inclined his head as he passed him and continued to walk at a steady pace, even when he inwardly swore that Annatar's eyes remained on his retreating back.

He welcomed the afternoon sunlight as soon as he stepped outside. He paused and took a few minutes so that he could steady himself and organise his churning thoughts. Many things were revealed to him, and not all of them concerned the main reason he visited Ost-in-Edhil. Of all of them, he decided first that there was not an ounce of trust within him for Annatar. That Maia was many things, and pleasant and courteous did not begin to define him by half. He was a mosaic of many emotions and thoughts, and most of them were hidden behind a carefully drawn curtain. He briefly wondered if it was something he could mention to Celebrimbor, but was against it. Celebrimbor was neither in the state of mind for such a discussion nor would he humour him long enough to listen to his doubts.

Thranduil heaved a sigh and went to the nearest vendor.

"Tell me," he said to him after a word of greeting. "Which way to the palace?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I know the storyline does not progress much here, but this is a foundation as well as a true glimpse of Elves. Since I have to build both worlds in a realistic fashion, I need to dedicate some paragraphs or some chapters to them.

To registered users, I am trying my best to get back to you. My keyboard is not working and since I type out my chapters on my phone and have time restraints, it is a bit difficult. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review!

 **Replies to Anon:**

Random Guest: Hello! Thank you so much for reviewing. Thanks for pointing out the error. I try my best to keep the mistakes minimum but sometimes something manages to sneak away! Thank you and I hope you keep enjoying this story!

Guest: You are just as awesome for reviewing! XD Thank you!

aiholic: Another person who loves world-building! Yes, the actual challenge of this story is to see how well the two universes would have worked if I merged them together. Although, I already have a detailed storyline written for this one. It stretches all the way to the Fourth Age in LoTR, and to Anakin's grandchildren (following the comics and novels) in Star Wars. Thank you and please continue to read and offer a review! (If you are able, of course!)


	11. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:**

My dear readers,

Would you mind terribly if I do not answer reviews for the previous chapter? I have two months of exams ahead and only two weeks left for prep. Thank you all for your reviews. It never stops to put a smile on my face. :)

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

The palace was built behind the great statue of Aulë. It was large, easily recognizable with its vast towers and wings along with the flags flying from their posts. Reaching the city was entirely different matter. The streets were clogged with traffic, and Thranduil only glimpsed some foreigners in a sea of Elves. He eventually managed to reach the palace and asked for his kinsman. A manservant led him to a study, and there Thranduil laid his eyes on Celeborn.

In looks, Celeborn resembled Oropher, with his silver hair, calm expression, pale skin and tall, lean body. But his cheeks were higher, his nose straighter, and his eyebrows close together to give him the impression of a permanent frown. It was something that Thranduil always teased him about. His shoulders were wide and broad, tapering to narrow waist and hips before giving way to long legs, hidden underneath his robes of blue, with silver swirls as a design. The front of his outer robe was fixed in place with an ornate swan brooch. He lounged on a chair facing a table and another chair when the manservant announced Thranduil's arrival; his long legs carelessly sprawled under the table. Celeborn looked up sharply as soon as he heard Thranduil's name.

"Ah, my wayward kin returns at last." Celeborn announced. He hopped down the six steps in sets of two. Once he reached the ground, he spread his arms open and marched up to him. Thranduil smiled. Celeborn put him in a tight, warm hug and thumped him hard twice on his back. Thranduil tried not to wince. Celeborn enjoyed teasing and irking him. Instead, Thranduil squeezed his hands on his biceps as hard as he could. Celeborn flinched, laughed and pulled away.

"You have a strong arm," Celeborn noted. "I had forgotten."

"I can remind you during practice in the fighting rings. Tomorrow, perhaps." Thranduil offered in as bland tone as he could manage. Celeborn was not fooled.

"I like my nose the way it is, but I thank you for your kind offer." He answered, matching his tone. Thranduil grinned. "Come and sit down. Now, if you please. Valar knows that if I leave you standing, you will fly off to save the galaxy." Thranduil stifled a retort with sizable effort. Instead, he turned his attention to the study. It was a rectangular room, large enough to feel spacious and yet small enough to give homely feeling. The walls were painted soft cream, and the tiles beneath his feet were yellow with a touch of reddish hue. Surprisingly, the furniture was not made of functional and practical metal. Instead, most of the furniture in the room was made of polished red wood. He felt the dim pressure of Celeborn's hand on the small of his back as he ascended the steps leading to the chairs and table where Celeborn was sitting. It overlooked a wide window that touched both ceiling and floor, with a waist high fence protecting lower part of it.

Thranduil's attempt of stopping a retort failed.

"A mission always comes first," Thranduil remarked. Celeborn rolled his eyes as he lowered into his chair.

"You have become married to this position of yours." Celeborn muttered.

"Every creed is a marriage contract of some sort," Thranduil joked before easily sliding into a chair. Celeborn snorted, the only indication of his amusement.

"Do not start an intellectual debate." Celeborn implored. "I have that enough from both Elrond and Glorfindel. I told Elrond that he should have been sent to the Jedi Temple as well."

"And what did he say?"

"He told me a celibate life was not for him."

Thranduil leaned back comfortably and laughed languidly. Something about Arda system, particularly in the presence of his kin, always made him relax.

"If that is what he claims, then I am surprised he hasn't married yet."

"He needs someone who can keep up with him." Celeborn explained. "Elrond lives a busy life, and a wife for him has to be special so he makes some time for her."

"I am sure he will find someone." Thranduil conceded.

"Just as your father keeps hoping that you leave the Order." Celeborn retorted. Thranduil winced.

"That is not going to happen." Thranduil said ruefully, a thin smile spreading on his face.

"How about I tell your father that you are here-"

"Do not." Thranduil interrupted. His smile disappeared. He immediately sat forward. "He will never leave me in peace if he finds out." Celeborn's smile grew wider, like a cat that ensnared its prey. Thranduil shot him a warning glance. "Celeborn, I mean it. Do not-"

"Alright, alright," Celeborn stopped him, laughing. "I will behave myself. So tell me, how is my wife?"

"Governing unsteady waters as always," Thranduil grinned. "Galadriel is admirable. She manhandled the Senate let me go."

"That's my wife," Celeborn praised approvingly. Thranduil chuckled. Celeborn and Galadriel were suited in so many ways that Thranduil often teased them to be cut from the same cloth…. Meaning they had no differences at all. They went along splendidly, as if they were composed of the same harmony. Celeborn and Galadriel always glanced at each other and smiled amiably. Thranduil only witnessed a single fight between the couple, which resolved so quickly that Thranduil did not consider it a fight at all… or even a difference in opinion. He wondered if it was a good sign that the pair went along so well. But they were happy and that was all that mattered to them.

"She is good at what she does," Thranduil agreed with a nod, "Although she does not believe it from time to time."

"Self-doubts inflicts on every leader from time to time." Celeborn said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He glanced at Thranduil with a rakish glint in his eye. "You, on the other hand, could deal with some self-doubts. You are far too assured."

Thranduil found it too easy to keep the smile on his face from slipping away. Inwardly, he laughed mockingly. If only he knew!

"You are certainly a poor judge for character of another." Thranduil retorted lightly. Celeborn did not look the least troubled. In fact, he seemed to expect such an answer. The grin remained on Celeborn's face.

"You certainly cannot handle criticism to your character very well."

"There is little to criticise about."

"And you definitely do not need any more self-assurance. Tell me, does your head grow heavy under the weight of your pride, and your clothes smaller when your chest expands with confidence?"

Thranduil laughed heartily.

"A very good insult, but you need to keep working on them," Thranduil answered. A servant knocked and entered the door. He silently poured drinks and served them before disappearing.

"Maybe I was reproaching you."

"Maybe, but I was not sure." Thranduil drawled. He lifted the cold glass to his lips, chilled dew sliding over the outside of the glass and took a sip. Then he grimaced when the sickly sweet liquid trickled down his throat. Cranberry juice. He never liked cranberry juice. He set the glass back on the table.

"How could you not be sure?" Celeborn reached for his glass.

"Hm, how could I? You always keep 'frowning' my way… or any way for that matter."

Celeborn choked and sputtered. He lowered his glass but did not place it on the table. He looked exasperated.

"For the last time, you stubborn, infuriating, half-witted Jedi for a kin, my eyebrows will not be made the centre of this discussion-"

"Well, it certainly commands all attention when one looks at your face."

"He who he makes mockery of others will soon be mocked in the unforeseen future." Celeborn said solemnly.

Thranduil frowned.

"I am not familiar with that saying."

"Do you call me a liar?" Celeborn demanded. Thranduil hastened to sooth him but Celeborn continued, "It started with 'he who'." Thranduil paused. He suddenly became aware of Celeborn's twitching lips and realised he was toying with him.

"I should throw something at you." Thranduil said loftily as he sank back into his chair. Celeborn laughed. "But that would be a terrible waste of energy and the Force on someone so worthless." Celeborn laughed again, more delighted than before.

"I have missed you," Celeborn remarked, chuckling. "Galadriel did tell me it was fun to meet you again. 'Refreshing' was the word she used."

"How splendid; I am compared to a cool drink on a warm day." Thranduil said dryly. He shook his head. Then he looked around. He noticed one thing; Celeborn's daughter had yet to make an entry. She always met with him whenever he came by for a visit.

"Where is your daughter?"

"In Lórien," Celeborn asked. Thranduil raised his eyebrows. He heard she was in Lórien many months ago.

"Still?" He pressed. Celeborn hesitated.

"Yes." He nodded. Celeborn inhaled and gestured wordlessly at Thranduil to take a seat. He frowned a little before complying. He sat on a chair beside Celeborn, placed his arms on the table and waited for his kin to continue. Celeborn tapped his fingertips in a mesmerising rhythm as if he wondered where to start.

"I do not trust Annatar." He said at last. Thranduil raised his eyebrows.

"I suspect many do not." Thranduil answered neutrally. But Celeborn stopped him with an adamant shake of his head.

"He is…" Celeborn searched for the right words. "I cannot describe it. It is a strange feeling. Like-like-"

"The darkness, seeping through the weaves of a cloth," Thranduil finished, his eyes lowered to study the inlay of amber lacing the table. He did not know if Celeborn agreed but he sensed he did. "She left because of Annatar?"

"Partially," Celeborn explained. Thranduil frowned and opened his mouth, intending to tell him that explained nothing. Then he closed his mouth. Celeborn never spoke his mind until he wished to. "She does not… get along well with Celebrimbor." Thranduil inclined his head wordlessly.

"And what does Gil-Galad think of this? I hear he likes Annatar."

"'Like' is perhaps too generous a term." Celeborn conceded. "He is… intrigued. And I do not blame him. Annatar's skills are exemplary. He is also kind, generous and very charming. And yet something about him, I simply do not trust. Intrigued is not the same as liking someone and trusting them. And there is a great deal of unrest in the Elven Realm… which you would have known had you taken more part in our daily affairs."

The rebuke stung. The calm atmosphere of the room now crackled with hostile energy. Thranduil's face darkened and he leaned forward slightly over the table and scowled at Celeborn with narrowed eyes and taut lips.

"If you must know what I was doing, then let me tell you I did not lock myself behind temple doors and spent my time meditating," Thranduil said in deadly quiet. "I spent my waking hours chasing down every lead to bring our girls home, and my slumber dreaming of all consequences where I find them in good health and otherwise." A hard lump rose in his throat. It was difficult to swallow past it. No matter how many good times passed by him, the thought of those captured girls ghosted his mind always. "You know nothing of what I do, Celeborn."

The Elf fell silent. Celeborn's face pinched. It was pale, with thin lips and a frown on his forehead. Thranduil's good mood evaporated like thin steam. He pushed his chair back and stood up. "I need some time to myself." He muttered. He walked out, leaving deathly silence in his wake.

Night brought Thranduil little comfort. He did not meet Celeborn for dinner, and Celeborn did not summon him. Thranduil found the four walls of his room stifling. He spent far too long in somewhat modesty of the temple to appreciate his luxurious surroundings. While the Jedi Order provided them with comforts, they did not believe in extravagance. And that was precisely what his surroundings were. The tables were decorated with elaborate gold inlays. The walls were made of white marble. The floor was pristine. A painting of a young girl dancing on the surface of lake hung opposite to the window. A decoration of a glass forest with small glass animal figurines sat on the table in front of the fireplace. The mattress was too firm, and the sheets too soft.

Thranduil sighed and laughed ruefully under his breath. There was a time when he was young when he invited such comforts. But it was not so anymore. The Order changed him.

He was not sure if the change was for the better. Some may say that the Order was the height of etiquette and morality. Others would say it was a blessing to have a set of rules that dictated one's entire life. But Thranduil was not so sure. How much of himself did he lose while he disciplined himself in the ways of the Jedi? Why was he so awkward around his own kind? He felt as if he stood on top of a large tower, balancing with difficulty. He belonged neither amongst the Jedi nor the Elves. Where, then, did he belong?

The communications panel fitted in his room beeped. Thranduil tore his eyes away from the soothing scenery out of his window and glanced at the blinking screen. The origin of the call was the Jedi Temple from Coruscant. He knew who it was. He opened the line.

"Master Yoda," Thranduil said in a way of greeting. "If you wish for a report, then I am afraid I have nothing to offer you. I have only just arrived."

"Not for a report," Yoda's voice was clear through the link. The communication only carried audio, but he felt some humour in the Grandmaster's voice. "Needed to discuss, I did." Thranduil's ears pricked.

"What is it?" He asked warily.

"Found something, Master Windu did. A link to where the captured girls might be. Thought it may interest you, he did." Thranduil leaned forward, bracing himself against the panel. Excitement sprang inside him. This information was so much more important. It was his mission from the start. What was more, slavers moved quickly. If he lost the lead now, he will not find one again for a long time.

"Then I request to send me everything. I will leave as soon as I am able-"

"No," Yoda's voice was firm. "Stay, you shall. Wait, it can."

"Master Yoda," Thranduil fought to remain calm. "I must object-"

"Noted," Yoda's voice, if possible, grew hard. Thranduil fell silent. This was not a fight he could win. "Go, you shall after this mission. Accompany you, Windu will."

Thranduil gaped for a long time.

"No," Thranduil said suddenly. "No. No. Master Yoda, I can investigate and dispose of this case myself-"

"No doubt, I have in your skills. But two Jedi are better, yes?"

"This keeps getting better and better." Thranduil muttered under his breath. A cold wind blew from the window, and Thranduil shivered.

"Thranduil?"

"I am here." Thranduil replied immediately in normal voice.

"Good. Worried, I was, that you did not hear me."

"Unfortunately, Master Yoda, the communications are in excellent working order." Thranduil answered. He heard a soft sound by which Thranduil guessed with some suspicion that Yoda was entertained. There were times when Thranduil wondered how the Grandmaster tolerated his insubordination. Most people tired of Thranduil quickly because of his sharp tongue and lack of respect. But Yoda did not mind. In fact, he _enjoyed_ them.

"Accept you will, then, my proposition?"

"I do not think you are giving me a choice, Master Yoda." Thranduil remarked wearily.

"I am not." Yoda assured him.

"Splendid," Thranduil mumbled. Mace on top of his other worries… what could go wrong? "Then I accept."

"Good. Return to Coruscant, you shall after your mission. Much to discuss, there is." Thranduil sighed.

"Yes, Master Yoda."

After the customary farewell between Jedi, Thranduil retired for the night.

Morning brought Thranduil into the unpleasant reality of facing Celeborn. Breakfast was mostly conducted in grave, uncomfortable silence. Only Celeborn and Thranduil were present at the table. Thranduil did not bother to soften the silence or offer peace in any form. Instead, he let Celeborn stew.

Finally, the Lord placed his knife and fork carefully on his plate and looked at him squarely.

"I am sorry," Celeborn said at last. "Last night, I spoke out of bitterness and empty speculation. I should not have said what I said." Thranduil paused, his bite on his fork still hovering in air.

"You are forgiven," Thranduil answered. He took his bite and set down his fork. His morsel felt abominably large and dry in his mouth. He reached for his glass and washed it down. "I understand… mostly. But you must look at this situation from my perspective. My oath is to safeguard the people of this galaxy. However, the results do not show immediately, and sometimes are not what we expect."

There was a glimmer of old humour in Celeborn's eyes, but his lips smiled in genuine understanding.

"Spoken like a true Jedi," Celeborn said dryly, "cryptic yet understanding." Thranduil smiled and said nothing more. He dug into his breakfast again, each bite easier to swallow than the last now that the air between them lightened considerably. Silence stretched between them, but it was not as oppressive as before.

It was short-lived. They were halfway through when the doors slammed open and three Elves burst into the room. One of them was undoubtedly an officer and the other two sentinels. Celeborn dropped his fork and turned his full attention to them.

"What is it, Halon?" Celeborn asked.

"Orcs, my lord!" Halon said. Celeborn uncrossed his ankles and was off his chair in a blur of movement.

"Where?" Celeborn demanded.

"East, my lord, near the ruins of the last city."

"And how many?"

"We are not sure, my lord." Halon said after a pause. Celeborn's face darkened with fury.

"You are not sure," incredulity gave Celeborn's voice a sharp edge. The Lord pushed his chair back and impatiently slapped the cloth on his lap on the table. "By Elbereth, Halon, I expected more from you." Thranduil immediately stood up as Celeborn raised himself from his chair. Celeborn did not wait for Halon to answer. "Assemble a team. Now!"

Halon and his comrades gave an assent and disappeared quickly. Celeborn turned to Thranduil. Sunlight streamed on Celeborn's face, casting shadow beneath his cheekbones and eyes. He seemed haggard.

"I apologize," Celeborn said grimly. "Orcs have been a nuisance for some time recently."

"They were always a nuisance," Thranduil answered, watching his kin closely. Celeborn took the threat seriously. It was, but Thranduil also knew that Orcs were unorganized and powerless because of it.

"I am leaving to deal with them. It is up to you whether you wish to join-"

"I am ready." Thranduil assured. He offered a reassuring smile but Celeborn seemed too preoccupied. He only answered with a single nod and left. Thranduil abandoned his breakfast and made his way directly to the entrance, where he knew he would meet Celeborn again.

Orcs. They were beings twisted for a service fell and dark. They followed no creed, possessed no morals. The very mention of them raised Thranduil's distaste. And it was with good reason. Orcs were once Elves, until they followed a fallen Vala, by the name of Morgoth and were tortured and mutilated into Orcs. Their offspring remained the same, generation after generation. Or so the legend goes.

But everyone within Arda system knew these were not legends.

Thranduil severed the line of thought as if he took a sharp axe to a thick rope. Some secrets were dangerous, even if they were thought of, rather than spoken.

He joined the group of soldiers waiting by the entrance. He did not need to wait long. Nearly ten minutes later, Celeborn reappeared. His clothes of finery were gone. Instead he wore fitted black armour, his hair braided out of his way. He was armed to the teeth.

"How did these Orcs come so close to the fortress?" Celeborn demanded.

"We are not sure, my lord." Halon answered.

"Well, then find out!" Celeborn snapped, his voice cracking like the whip. "This is the third time this month that these Orcs have come so close without us detecting them. I will not have them within an arm's breadth of this city!"

"I never thought Orcs would be so dangerous," Thranduil remarked, noting Celeborn's concern as well as his armour and weapons.

"They are different now," Celeborn answered with slanted glance. He began to walk, and Thranduil quickly followed. The rest of their team were close behind. "They attack in small groups, and do not mind the sunlight or moonlight. They have different weapons, and their attacks are either as ambush on traders in space or small skirmishes on land. We clear them out and more camps form faster than the ones we uproot."

"And why have I not heard of this?" Thranduil asked, frowning. If Orcs were such a major concern, then he should have been informed of it. But none of the planets said anything.

"Most of us are still in denial." Celeborn replied. He threw a troubled glance at Thranduil. "They are evolving, Thranduil. It is clear as a cloudless day. And their weapons… I think someone is supplying them." Thranduil's frown deepened.

Celeborn led them to a platform and gestured at Thranduil. "Stay here," he said. "The barracks are close by. And the craft should come in any second. I need to meet with a tactician." Thranduil hid his bitterness inside him and nodded wordlessly. Before he was a Jedi, Celeborn did not hesitate to include him in such matters. But his alliance with the Jedi Order forced Elves to be wary of him. Celeborn apparently did not notice his misgivings and turned on his heel, his comrades following close behind. Thranduil was promptly left alone on the platform.

It gave him time to manage his emotions. Yoda always stressed that a Jedi needed to harness his feelings before stepping into difficult situations. Some Jedi showed admirable control but many struggled with it. Thranduil turned his gaze at the wide, impressive expanse of the city below him and used the scenery to calm him. He timed his breaths carefully, focusing his attention on the fluttering flags as he emptied his mind of all thoughts. Then he touched the Force briefly, allowing the power to soothe him.

He dimly heard the sound of a craft before one appeared before him. It was a standard military carrier, armoured, with a single pilot behind bulletproof glass. It was built for terrain, and could not fly higher than the lower atmosphere. It flew few feet above him. Celeborn's face appeared and peered down at him.

"Stay right there!" He called the dull, rhythmic noise of the craft. "We are lowering the craft."

"No chance," Thranduil muttered. He went backward a step and braced himself at the knees. He unleashed the Force, focusing it within his legs and leaped. Thranduil landed on the smooth floor of the craft. He glanced at Celeborn who only made a face at him.

"Show off," Celeborn muttered. Thranduil grinned and gave a deep bow. Celeborn jeered at him before turning his attention to the pilot. "Do not bother. He is on board." A face appeared behind Celeborn with a wide grin.

"I told you," Celebrimbor said to Celeborn. The latter ignored him with a cool mask in place. Thranduil noted the tension between the two Elves that both of them tried to ignore in their own fashion. Celebrimbor addressed Thranduil, "It is good to see you again. Did you sleep well?"

Thranduil's lips twitched involuntarily at Celebrimbor's amiable tone. They might as well be inquiring after the weather.

"As well as possible," Thranduil answered just as lightly. Celebrimbor's grin grew wider. It was clear he knew Thranduil's thoughts, especially when he winked at Thranduil conspiratorially. Thranduil chuckled. The ride on the craft was smooth and silent, until the craft drew near to their destination.

"What are these ruins?" Thranduil asked curiously.

"They are ancient." Celeborn replied. "The city was forged by the first Noldor that fled after the battle of First Age-"

"Enough," Thranduil said sharply. "You know some things are not to be spoken of." Celeborn looked at him, surprised and confused.

"We are all Elves here," Celeborn said with a quizzical frown. The wind tugged free Celeborn's silver hair from his tight braids. Some of the strands flickered in his eyes. Celeborn pushed his hair out of the way with an impatient hand. Thranduil paused. He spent so long in company of people that did not belong to Arda that he forgot himself.

"The Elves built the city, but soon it proved insufficient as the population grew and the markets flourished." Celeborn continued. Thranduil noticed how Celeborn kept his eyes out at the passing landscape. Thranduil grimaced. Celeborn pretended not to notice his slip. "So they made a new city, and the people shifted there. The old one fell into disuse." Celeborn raised his voice and gave short succinct commands to all of them.

They reached the city and dropped three Elves at what used to be an entrance. As soon as they landed, the Elves cloaked themselves.

"Cloaking will not work." Thranduil said as they dropped two Elves north of the city. "The Orcs have strong sense of smell."

"Yes," Celeborn conceded. "But it will buy us some precious minutes. You and Celebrimbor take the city from the south." After Celeborn departed, Thranduil and Celebrimbor landed at the ruined wall of the city. Thranduil activated his lightsaber, enjoying its familiar hiss. He looked at the crumbling wall and heard a loud animalistic snarl. An Orc appeared around the corner, sniffing and growling. It raised its jagged weapon high and ran up to them.

"That one is mine." Celebrimbor said before Thranduil raised his lightsaber. He answered with a surprise nod. That was when he saw that Celebrimbor held a heavy hammer in his hand for a weapon. Electricity crackled through the hammer, like silver lightning. Celebrimbor raised it high above his head and brought it down on his poor victim. The Orc fell with a loud squeal, abruptly cut off when energy charged through it, sending its body into convulsions.

"You could have given yourself a shock," Thranduil told him. He ignored the Orc's gurgling. The smith held up a hand, palm outward. He wore gloves.

"Insulated and protected," Celebrimbor said with a grin. "And so are my shoes." At last the Orc's body went limp.

"Such a terrible way to die," Thranduil muttered. He would have continued, but another wave of Orcs assaulted them. Some of the Orcs were nimble; they climbed up the ruined walls and balanced themselves on top. They had the advantage of higher ground. Thranduil hated when he was at an advantage. Thranduil gathered the Force in his legs and leaped in the air. He landed precariously on the very edge, his heels still in the air. A single Orc stood in front of him. His lightsaber sliced through the neck of his enemy. He did not wait for the body to topple and he used the Force to push away another Orc that had stood just before the first one. The first body landed on the ground with a sickening sound of broken bones. The second crashed into a wall before crumbling on the floor.

"Nice," Celebrimbor praised him. "You are very good."

"Yes, killing is one of my many talents." Thranduil answered wryly. Celebrimbor answered quickly before he even finished.

"Thranduil, look sharp!"

He turned just in time to see an Orc with his bow trained on him. Only his instincts from the Force saved him from instant death. The bolt stuck inches deep in the ruined stone wall where his head was seconds ago, quivering slightly.

"Celeborn!" He called after his kin, knowing he was somewhere nearby. "I admit it! I greatly underestimated them."

Celeborn would have gloated, if he were not busy. The Orc was reloading with quick hands, but Thranduil covered the distance between them in a single leap and sank his lightsaber in his throat. And again, Thranduil forgot about his blind side.

An Orc stood behind him, raising his bow just as Thranduil pulled his lightsaber free. There was no time to attack, so Thranduil began to roll sideways to evade him.

He did not move in time. The arrow embedded straight into his right shoulder. Thranduil's body lurched backwards, white pain lancing through him. Thranduil fell back against the wall and sagged slightly. The Orc raised his bow, his arrow fitted into a bowstring. Thranduil raised his left arm and Force-pushed him away. The Orc shrieked as he flew backwards and crashed into a wall. The body slumped to the ground listlessly. Thranduil caught Celeborn out of the corner of his eye. The Lord sprinted to him.

"Thranduil!"

"This will ruin my day," Thranduil hissed through gritted teeth. Celeborn pulled him into the refuge of a wall and studied his shoulder. Thranduil tried to wriggle from him.

"Stay still," Celeborn snapped. "The arrowhead is embedded into your shoulder blade. I cannot remove it." Celeborn's free hand placed on his ear and spoke over the comm. "Halon, ready a ship. Thranduil is wounded and is in need of immediate treatment."

"Do not be ridiculous," Thranduil snapped. He leaned his head against the wall behind him. His temples were beginning to ache and heavy. The sounds of a fight continued. "I will be fine as soon as I catch my breath." Celeborn laughed scornfully. Thranduil stole a glance at him. Celeborn's face was pale and pinched with worry.

"The poison is potent. They will try to stabilise you in the ship until you go into surgery back in the city." Thranduil's body sagged against him. "Do not close your eyes!" Celeborn snapped at him. He jerked him harshly. "I have lost soldiers to this poison but I will not lose you as well!"

"Well, father will at least have this to blame." Thranduil tried to joke. It came out in a gasp of pain.

"This is no time to joke, damn you!"

"Please. He always wanted to know why I avoid meeting him." Thranduil's voice began to slur.

"Stay awake!" Celeborn ordered with a solid shake of his shoulders. Air picked up fast and turbulent around them. Thranduil would have been troubled of how heavy his head felt if he were not so sleepy. "The ship is here. Thranduil! You said you worried for the girls that were kidnapped. Tell me their names."

Thranduil shook his head and tried to think. Names emerged like objects pulled out of quicksand, slow and slurred. But before the first name left his tongue, darkness claimed him.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

All hail Thranduil's sass.

I am sorry for the late update of this one. Life obligations plus the time it takes to research for this story rarely meet eye to eye in their marriage together.

Do leave a review!


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